


Sometimes you don't need to fight the flow

by LineCrosser, SunsetSwish



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: (in the last chapter), Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Arranged Marriage, Consensual Sex, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, Travel, bigbang, no lions were hurt in the making of this story, no sexual abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 08:01:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 46,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16869178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LineCrosser/pseuds/LineCrosser, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunsetSwish/pseuds/SunsetSwish
Summary: Instead of being allowed to take the throne of Vere as the last son of the dead king, Laurent is offered up in marriage to a prince from another nation. Akielons are a wealthy and powerful nation, even if their leadership isn't united. They're divided into nomadic Clans and Damianos is one of the most popular leaders.Having never met him before the wedding, Laurent goes into this union without much hope for it working out well for him.Art for the story is made bylinecrosser! It's super amazing. You can see ithere.





	1. The Wedding

Akielon tents spread out in a half-circle far enough across the fields that occupants of those tents look like dots to observers standing atop Acquitart's battlements.

Despite having the advantage of stone walls against leather and cloth (and swords, and Akielon pikes), the Veretians can't say they feel at all sure in their defences. Most importantly, this single Akielon Clan outnumbers them by far, even with the whole guard unit added to Acquitart's regular staff. Laurent feels too much respect for his people to point out that bringing them all the way from the north was a waste of time, resources and effort. He stays silent about it because it's also probably the last time he's seeing so many of his own countrymen.

There are some optimists - and Laurent could almost envy their bliss in ignorance - who believe they don't need to match their visitors' numbers only because said visitors are not here for military reasons. It's true, they are not here for war reasons but that had never stopped Akielos before from finding a fight where it wanted to find it. Laurent isn't seeing _guests_ down there, milling around, setting up various tables and other things they'll need later. He's seeing an Akielon army and while he can't spot the man himself, he knows there is the Akielon prince among them.

Laurent knows that if it came to worst, there wouldn't be much of a fight. Vere would not fight back because it lacks the power to do so. More than that, it would not fight as long as Vere meant Laurent's uncle, the Regent. If it came to worst, the Regent would be the first to see it coming and he would be the first to make his escape through means and routes he had without a single doubt planned well in advance.

There would be no room in this plan for Laurent or any of their people who are below certain importance. Not even the whole council is here today to witness the wedding of their only remaining prince to the Akielon savage.

No, the Regent isn't willing to let go of Vere as a country and seat of power, but he's more than prepared to sacrifice as many people as he has to, before turning around and claiming it was a great loss solely caused by the barbarians.

Laurent looks on, taking in groups of people, each moving with its own purpose in mind. There's no time to waste, even for barbarians, when there's barely two hours left until the ceremony.

The young prince thinks he can tell slaves from warriors by their build and rough details of their clothes, even though almost all of them blend together with white and grey fabrics. A fraction of them has dark strips of leather on them, pauldrons and shin guards. None wear full Akielon armour (as much as it can be called full when it still leaves much flesh uncovered). Laurent assumes that if he were to spot a man with anything red on him, like maybe a cloak, it would surely be Damianos. But Laurent doesn't look for him.

"Nephew." Comes the voice from behind Laurent and he doesn't startle only because sounds carry well through the old stairwell which leads to the battlements and he's heard his uncle coming up, knowing there's nowhere he could move to avoid him.

"This is the most lively this old fort has been in a century." The older man says as if it's truly a day to rejoice.

Laurent glances to the side just so to be able to see his uncle's form. The man's wearing the best clothes he's brought for this occasion – Laurent's impressed that he kept it toned down, appropriate for a wedding which he's a guest at. On occasion such as this, Damianos should be the one most noticeable, most richly dressed. If Laurent were a woman, he'd be allowed to be in his own kind of rich clothing but as it is, he's a prince whose standing doesn't even begin to compare to Damianos's. His blood may be blue, but no power comes with it.

"It will be back to normal by tomorrow midday," Laurent says.

"True. I'm curious how your days will look. You do not have the knowledge or skills to be the savage's queen, just as you do not have the breeding or skill to be the first among his slaves. You can't even share your looks with his offspring and your own beauty will only work for you for a limited time. Once he puts his hands on you, how long do you think it will last?"

"Hopefully as long as the peace between our nations I will be buying with my life."

"Yes, I wouldn't _underrate_ you. I'm sure he'll be quite happy with this arrangement for a while."

Would Damianos consider it a betrayal if Laurent threw himself off of the fort? Maybe he would be surprised enough not to attack and kill any Veretians for it. Laurent's tempted to do just that, not to spite the Akielons but his own uncle.

He would never actually jump, from anywhere, but somehow his uncle manages to impose himself even on that fleeting fantasy: a heavy hand lands on Laurent's shoulder.

"Well, it's time to stop dawdling and daydreaming and time to attend your duties, don't you think?"

"Yes, uncle." He turns without glancing up at the man beside him and goes straight downstairs without looking back.

Laurent wants to get to the dais set up for his husband-to-be and himself without having to stop for conversations with anyone. He might not mind Jord or someone else from his Guard, such as it is. The Regent hadn't waited until Laurent was married off to start ridding himself of anything that had more value to Laurent than to him. On the day of his wedding, there are only three men left under Laurent's orders. As the brother of the late crown prince and then crown prince himself, he used to have up to seven skilled fighters dedicated to guarding him. Too bad none of them could have protected him against the Regent.

Now, there is no one at his side to stop the next meeting from happening: Councillor Guion appears from one of the side corridors of the castle as Laurent passes by and falls into step beside him. Laurent does nothing to encourage his sudden company but he also knows Guion won't be discouraged now that he's stumbled onto Laurent alone.

"Clan leaders all across Akielos are supposed to bring their wedded queens all the way south to Ios to present them in the barbarian temple." He says as if Laurent isn't already aware of many Akielon customs.

"If they are still together by the time they reach the Lion Gates, then the marriage must be good enough to last for years after that. If there is no spouse to present… well, it wasn't meant to be.

Do you think you'll see the Lion Gates? You might. After all, there is one more tradition. If an insult to one of their princes - or kings, as they like to call themselves – is grave enough, they'll take you to Ios to be fed to their lions before witnesses."

Laurent turns his head to look at the man walking beside him. On this day, Laurent will be set free from the likes of him, the council and those who wish they could be part of it. He'll be free of the broken promises and hopes. He'll be free of their lies.

"You have a beast at your back all the time and you don't even know it," Laurent tells Guion calmly. "I'd rather have a lion come at me where I can see it."

He _wouldn't_ , not really. The Councillor doesn't need to know just how deeply Laurent's fear of Damianos runs. But at least that's the end of that conversation and Guion goes away.

Once Laurent sets foot on the flat stones of the inner yard, he finds his men. Jord takes his place close behind him to the right, while Orlant keeps a little more to the back.

They had spent enough time together over the years for Laurent to know when his men have something to say and are only gathering the courage to actually use their voice in front of him. Usually, on any other day, he'd ask them outright or encourage them to speak. Today he feels no desire nor strength to do so. Whatever Jord has to say, it surely has to do with Laurent's wedding or with Akielons and there is simply nothing left to discuss.

"Your Highness. If I may speak of this, I don't believe you need to fear your future. He's marrying you, not stealing you or taking you prisoner. I don't believe he's intending to do wrong by you."

"I know Akielons are not cruel to and among their own people." Laurent sighs. "I'm not one of them. I'm the Veretian stranger who's taking place at their prince's side when it should be one of them. A perfect southern lady. Or how they call them, queen. And Damianos himself... I do not know his motives and reasons. Having me through marriage is a stronger bond than keeping me captive, from where I could escape."

"You don't know that for sure," Orlant adds to the conversation suddenly and Laurent levels him with a sharp look.

"I know for sure that he wants to have me without even knowing me. All that he can possibly know about me are my looks and whatever Uncle had told him to make him agree to the deal."

"He might remember you from before. You do remember his late father, the king, had visited us north during the Talks at the Vaskian Border." Jord says carefully.

"Six years ago."

Jord nods. "You weren't participating, but you were there. Aside from that, he must have met your brother- if not privately, then at least multiple times during the meetings against the Wild Tribes."

Laurent recalls he Talks. He was just a royal child taken along because he was quiet and knew to stay out of trouble when consequences might be serious. He also remembers seeing so many faces so different from what he's known all his life that he felt overwhelmed, even more motivated to stay out of adults' way. Had he been introduced to Damianos personally, he would have remembered it. As it was, if he ever saw Theomedes's son, he wasn't aware of it. Akielon faces probably blurred together in his younger mind, especially when there were no introductions, just glances in passing.

Laurent doesn't wish to continue that topic and when he falls silent, his Guard does too. They're out in the field, walking into the first line of tents, behind which is the space for main festivities.

The Clan is the party dictating all the conditions. They had no intention of letting the wedding happen within the castle walls, no matter how fitting it would be for a pair of princes. Damianos's people wanted to be near their beloved leader and at the same time near to the heart of the incoming fun. The grounds are divided into some obvious sections, such as the dais for the pair of newlyweds, then many long tables set up in parallel lines, already heavy with food. There are a few very colourful tents about which Laurent has some assumptions already.

The main attractions are to be taking place halfway between the castle and the bulk of the camp. That puts it far enough from the horses so the smells wouldn't disturb anyone. Laurent wonders where the slaves are housed in this setting and how much of the work needed to set everything up was done by them. He can see them walking around, white, slender and silent, but there were no bigger groups of them that'd indicate their section.

There are no traditions stopping the prince of Vere from walking where he pleases and potentially showing his face to his betrothed. Dressed for the ceremony, Laurent has been ready for hours. He would not suffer through anyone fussing over anything to do with his person later in the day, so he had called on servants for necessary help as soon as he'd washed and eaten his morning meal.

There is no detail in his clothes and no hair out of place in his braid that could be mistaken for anything but purely Veretian fashion. Knowing this would be the last time he would wear the Starburst anywhere on his person, Laurent had the symbol emblazoned on shoulders of his deep-blue jerkin and he has it on the ring he wears on a chain around his neck. The ring belonged to his brother, who would always leave it with Laurent whenever he left on campaigns or to visit neighbouring nobles without Laurent. The last time he had handed over the ring had been three years ago.

There was no one else to give it to when Laurent was about to cross to Akielon side.

Literally crossing to Akielon side, Laurent still has Jord and Orlant following him close, looking out for signs of trouble. Laurent sees none and at this point he expects none. If there was anyone opposing what was happening this day, they should have acted before when either he or Damianos was alone and an easy target. It was highly unlikely anyone would go for Damianos rather than Laurent unless they were a loyal Veretian who Laurent knows is nowhere to be found around here except in his own Guard.

The wedding is his, no matter the other aspects of the whole deal, so it isn't exactly hard to look and feel like he belongs there on the field prepared for festivities. Regardless of the ugly mix of feelings inside him, Laurent carries himself with confidence and people either move out of his way or, if they pay attention to his person, they bow their heads to him before running off on their errands while there's still much to do.

When he's among Akielons, Laurent easily notices how the slaves notice him, immediately lower their eyes and appear ready to drop to the ground should he give them the slightest sign he wants it. He doesn't want it.

After making a round trip across most of the camp, Laurent decides it best to go back to the dais and wait. He sees no sign of his future husband so he assumes the man is hidden by his tent, the biggest one in the middle of other tents. He's most likely with his officers in there at this time, since Laurent also doesn't spot many warriors who appear to be of high rank walking around.

He doesn't sit at his designated place because his Guard doesn't have the room or the right to sit there with him. He chooses the long bench at the tables instead.

He listens to what's going on around them. Although he's not completely in the dark where the barbarian language is considered, Laurent can't say he understands it. He would have liked to know it and it's not his fault he had no one to learn from. Books can only teach him limited aspects about a language that he needs to speak and listen to. Auguste had promised, a long time ago, to find Laurent the best tutors for whatever subjects he'd choose for himself. Those had been easier, good times. Laurent had been nothing more than the second prince, free to focus on being a help to his brother, the rightful future king of Vere. Auguste had wanted Laurent by his side, ever the protective and loving brother. And then he was gone.

So Laurent's alone, understanding only every third word of Akielon conversations around him. He knows when people talk about him. He knows when they're looking at him for too long. Surely many of those long looks are nothing more than curiosity and he tries not to think about how many people wish he wasn't here. He doesn't think how many wish he was here but that they were in Damianos place so they could have him.

His wait ends eventually and it feels too long and too short at the same time. Akielon man, tall and dressed in a way that tells Laurent he's not a common Clan member comes to stand before him. He speaks to Laurent in heavily accented but understandable Veretian.

"Prince Laurent. If you follow me, everything is ready for the signing."

"Of course." Laurent rises from the bench. He's supposed to sign his name on the two documents: a marriage agreement and a lengthy text containing the terms for future trade deals and other dealings between the two countries. Well, as much as Akielos can be considered a unified country. The truth is, the document will only be as good as Damianos's power among other Clans is. For now, the Prince is truly one of the most respected leaders, with a Clan of considerable size, wealth and large number of horses. And this is the man Laurent will be sold to in exchange for peace at the borders where Damianos's influence reaches.

They arrive at a tent with its flaps pulled up out of the way, making it open. The Akielon man who led Laurent there motions for him to enter first. Laurent knows his Guard will be stopped at the entrance.

Inside, there waits his husband. Beside him, his uncle, the Regent. Laurent's eyes stop on Damianos. He wasn't exactly sure of his age but he knew he wasn't being given to an old man. Looking at him now is even stronger relief. Even sitting down, the Akielon prince is impressive. He must be tall and is obviously well built. Better than most of the best Venetian soldiers Laurent has seen in his life. It makes him feel like the boy he'd been at the Talks, overwhelmed by the older, bigger foreigners.

In the shade of the tent, Damianos's eyes are dark, as is his hair. He's watching Laurent as he enters and a smile appears on his face, brightening it up. He is good-looking, Laurent thinks. Still, he doesn't let himself relax at the sight of the smile, no matter how genuine it seems to be. Damianos stands up while Laurent makes his way to his chair, prepared for him. Then they both sit down. Laurent appreciates this little show of respect. His uncle didn't stand up for him.

When Damianos speaks, his voice is as warm as his dark eyes are. "Prince Laurent... I am happy to see you in good health on this day." Veretian flows easily from his lips, surprising Laurent. He was expecting something more stunted like the other man who had spoken to him and who is standing straightbacked at the entrance.

He nods. "I'm well. Has the travel been easy for you?" He responds with a pleasantry of his own.

"We've had a full night to rest."

Laurent finds it just a little unnerving how the prince seems to be unwilling to look away from his face. One would say it's only polite to look at the one you're conversing with, but Laurent gets the feeling the man is just so pleased with him. He's pleased with Laurent's looks like he's getting all he came all this way for. There is no chance now that he'll be the one to call things off.

Laurent lowers his eyes to the table between them. Papers are already waiting, along with a set of writing tools. Following Laurent's gaze, the other two men turn their attention to the documents too.

Everything has been discussed already so there is only the signing left to do. Laurent gets to write his name under the Regent's on the treaty, the last thing he'll officially do as a prince of Vere. The moment he signs the marriage agreement, he'll be something else.

Damianos's fingers brush his when he passes the pen to Laurent.

And like this, it's done. All legal and complete.

There is supposed to be a ceremony following the legal part, but right now Laurent is already Damianos's husband.

They haven't discussed any Veretian traditions with his uncle, which tells him that probably none will be followed. It's fine. And in some ways, it's better.

There would be no Consummation for him for multiple reasons. He is no longer royalty of Vere and there is no pressure to make it all prettily legal and traditional in this way. He is subject to Akielon traditions now and they didn't include anything public aside from the actual wedding ceremony. Most importantly, however, there is no doubt on the Veretian side that he would be taken that night, as soon as Damianos pleases.

After they leave the tent, together, an older man approaches them. By appearance, he might be something like a ceremony master. Not so old that travelling could tire him out, but certainly old enough to have a large knowledge of all Akielon history and customs. Laurent's book knowledge didn't give him enough insight to recognize people's roles by their appearance.

The man bows to Damianos and Laurent, and when he turns, they're clearly expected to follow. They go back to the dais and stop in front of it without stepping onto it. The Akielons that could be seen walking around busy before are gathered together now, so many of them that not all are able to stand near enough to see what's happening.

Laurent tries not to think about being watched so intently by so many people. His attention is called to the elder again, when the man speaks, addressing the guests and then the couple.

The elder has a piece of white thread in his hands and he's looking at Damianos and Laurent expectantly. Handfasting, Laurent realizes. When Damianos raises his arm, Laurent knows he should do it too. They stand side by side, close enough that their wrists and palms may be covered with the thread, wrapped around three times. Damianos, taller than him, stands like true royalty, the traditional Akielon red cloak making him stand out among his people. He wears armour too polished to be of the functional kind. Must be ceremonial, too. Across his shoulders, there is golden fur. Must be lion's, Laurent thinks. He's never seen a lion, only drawings of them, which he doesn't know if they're accurate at all.

The old man is speaking to them in Akielon and only Damianos is able to answer when the man makes pauses. Laurent doesn't understand most of it.

Once there is silence, the thread is unwrapped and it seems that is that. That is, there is cheering from the Akielons, some sort of call for their Prince because Laurent clearly hears his name and that the sentence repeats. Grinning, Damianos raises his hand to acknowledge them and to gesture that they might sit at the tables now.

Laurent means to move away in order to step onto the dais to sit down as well but hand on his stops him. He turns back to the Prince, his husband.

"These were Akielon wedding vows of loyalty and a request to the gods for their blessing and protection in the future."

"You do not require me to promise loyalty too?"

"After you've learned to say the vows, I will ask for them then." Damianos answers. It doesn't sound like a mockery of Laurent's current lack of language skill. It sounds like he means those words. Laurent nods once.

Then, Damianos keeps holding onto Laurent's hand and he says, "Nikandros."

At this cue, the man steps forward, holding something large. More fur, Laurent realizes. Damianos takes it from him and unfolds a collar, not unlike his own, just somewhat smaller. He puts it around Laurent's neck, on his shoulders. It's thick and warm, and it doesn't smell bad like an animal like Laurent expected it to. It smells clean. His first gift, his first Akielon belonging.

Hands on him linger, Damianos's touch is all Laurent's senses are focusing on. Then it goes away.

"I will be with you in a moment, before the meat is served. Please sit down, eat what you wish."

Laurent does exactly that, settling to watch the numerous guests still milling about, talking, already getting refills of their cups before the feast even began. Damianos walks out of his sight with Nikandros.

Laurent doesn't hear the approach of a woman who kneels down to his left, between his chair and Damianos's. There is a flat, wide pillow to protect the woman's knees prepared there. Laurent hasn't noticed it before.

She surprises him when she speaks to him, her face turned down so that he can't see her fully. "I am Lykaios, my lord. Damianos-Exalted said to keep you company."

She talks to him in Veretian, stilted and uncertain. She must have learned recently and it just serves to make Laurent more ashamed of his poor knowledge of Akielon. Even so, Laurent itches to talk to her but he doesn't know how. She's a slave and Laurent doesn't have an idea how to get anything out of a conversation with a slave when he knows how they're trained to respond to all sorts of things. If he tries to talk about the Prince, no doubt she will have nothing to say but praise. He can't try to gossip with her about the guests as that would put her in an awkward position. But maybe… he could ask her about Akielon customs. Surely she must know them and be willing to offer him assistance.

"You belong to the Prince?"

"Yes, my lord." She says, putting much pride in that short word.

"What am I going to be to you once this wedding is through?"

She thinks about it. "My prince, Exalted, unless Damianos-Exalted tells me differently."

"I see. What else will be happening tonight, besides the obvious?" he gestures at the plates and jugs, and cutlery.

"Music and dance, and singing." She says. She thinks about the next word. "Performances? After first meal, gifts."

Laurent nods in acknowledgement. "Then more feasting?"

"Yes, my lord."

Laurent looks at her, taking in the details of her clothes first. The fabric wrapped around her in the shape of a dress with one shoulder strap is expensive-looking but thin. Not immodest, because it is folded twice in some places, but still too thin in Laurent's opinion. She has gold on her, a plain necklace and a hairpiece in shape of two flowers with twining stems secured in her fair locks over her left ear. On her shoulder, in the fabric sits a pin made of gold and in the shape of a lion's head. She must be treasured here. She must be his husband's personal slave, a favourite or one of them.

Laurent's gaze lingers on the colour of her hair, probably the brightest that Akielon hair can be. He thinks of his own appearance and what that means for him.

*

After the first meal, the dais is approached by two lines of guests: Veretian and Akielon, bearing gifts. Laurent is curious what Vere is giving them. After all, the Regent only wants to _take_ from Akielos in exchange for Laurent. He won't want to give them anything of worth. But there are other people, other guests that are nobility who might want to show themselves in good light on this occasion.

Laurent doesn't really care beyond mild curiosity. He's starting to find it difficult to ignore that he has a husband now, who's at his side, stealing Laurent's attention all the time even when he wishes for a distraction. It's not that Damianos speaks to him constantly, he doesn't. But then he moves or he laughs, his body language open and his good mood infectious to anyone but Laurent... And even when a conversation goes on that doesn't include Laurent directly, Damianos will pause and so will the other people, and he will turn to Laurent to translate for him. He gives Laurent summaries of what was said or when he deems the topic important or interesting enough, he will repeat it to Laurent in its entirety. It's… endearing, in a way. It takes effort on the Prince's side and while Laurent doesn't want to be grateful to him for anything, he does appreciate it.

The Prince translates for him when the Akielon guests present their gifts. He also explains what some of the items are when their purpose isn't obvious at first sight. It's a lot of armour and weapons and Laurent isn't surprised at all. They're special pieces, of course, apparently of quality proper to be gifted to a Clan leader. Then there are smaller wooden containers with herbs and medicinal dried plants.

Then there are jewels and jewellery, and Laurent knows a majority of it is meant for him.

Vere gives them fabrics. Not just blue but other colours as well. It's difficult to say if it's meant to be a veiled criticism of Akielon fashion or just a genuine gift of Vere's fine craft. It's a fact that Vere exports a lot of it and that their embroidery is sought after outside its borders. Well, at least Laurent will have a chance to wear something familiar to him for a longer time than it takes for his current clothes to become damaged or uncomfortable in his new life, outside of cities' walls.

A hitch in the proceedings comes when the next chest presented to them contains a trio of snakes. They're Veretian breed, familiar to Laurent at first sight. There are gasps among the Akielons coming immediately when they can see the animals, some murmuring, some of it angry. It only takes for Damianos to raise his hands for the background noise to stop but Laurent's thoughts make up for the silence, crowding his head. This might be bad.

"Your pets?" His husband asks.

"I wasn't allowed pets so no, they're not." Right now Laurent realizes he's put into a position where it's best for him to defend the snakes. He doesn't know who they're from since the men carrying the chest are not the ones who prepared it. They're just handling it, as they have two previous gifts. Unlike previous gifts, no one steps forward to add well-wishes or to boast how rich they are over their precious items.

Laurent can't look away from the snakes. They're just animals, probably confused as to why they're in a wooden box rather than their normal habitat. They're young too, small for their breed though they must appear large to the Akielons unfamiliar with them. For people relying on horses so much, snakes and other potentially dangerous creatures lurking in the grass, unseen until the last moment, must be the equivalent of something evil. Which is why so many offended faces are in the crowd right now. It'd be best to appease them but what can Laurent say? Send them back and offend Vere? Let them be killed to get rid of them? They don't deserve that.

"They're juvenile snakes," Laurent tells Damianos. "They can be made to accept human touch and care. They're precious in some noble houses for their colours and for their character. They carry no venom and when left in the wild, they hunt once a week. They're less vicious and less useful hunting mice than your average kitchen cat."

"Are you going to be their keeper?" Damianos asks.

"I will take responsibility for them, yes, if you allow them to just be."

Something softens in the Prince's expression. "Very well, I don't mind. They're yours."

The Prince takes another look into the chest. Laurent wonders if he's able to appreciate them at all. Of the three snakes, one is white with brown-and-yellow spots, one is red-and-black, and perhaps the most threatening looking of them all. The third is silvery-grey with an almost white stripe running all along its body, from head to tail tip. They would be worth a lot in the capital if sold to a noble looking to expand his collection.

With a simple gesture from Damianos, the matter is concluded and the chest is closed, then carried the same direction as the previous ones. The crowd of guests is happy enough to be distracted by new things and the snakes are forgotten eventually.

The gift giving is supposed to only be a break in the celebrations but everyone notices that after it's done, the Veretian crowd is readying to leave. People walk back inside the castle in small groups or pairs, while the Akielons are firmly glued to their tables, drinks and dances.

"They're not staying till morning?" Damianos asks Laurent, his brows furrowed.

"No," Laurent replies. He hasn't been told they'd leave soon but he'd been expecting it. He doesn't tell his husband that they don't care to celebrate his wedding. He doesn't tell his husband that they're satisfied that the papers are signed and that Laurent was moved from the court of Vere to Damianos's side. Instead, he says, "they wish to travel back to Arles first thing in the morning since we're far from the capital and it can't be left unattended for this long."

"I see," Damianos says but he doesn't seem too pleased about it. He doesn't comment further.

Laurent watches his people leave the crowd, leaving only Akielon faces and clothes in his line of sight. Until he catches two men waiting to the side, who nod at him when they see he noticed them.

Jord and Orlant haven't approached the dais during the first part of the wedding, not when they'd be noticed by the Regent. They didn't think they had anything worth giving their prince and his husband so they didn't join the line of gift-givers either. Now, Laurent excuses himself from the table and goes straight to them. His heart feels as if it's being pressed on, same as his lungs. These men are his friends and he's going to lose them tonight.

Jord takes his hand in both of his, a gesture he never did before and now it just makes Laurent's heart hurt worse.

"You have the strength to come out on top of this, your highness. He doesn't look at you with contempt." He says, meaning his husband. "He admires your face, but you can make him admire your mind."

Laurent doesn't have much hope of reaching the same level as the barbarian. Still, he likes the calm confidence in Jord's words. It is what he needs, what he's already told himself over and over but has yet to believe.

"Will you be well? I can no longer predict what direction Vere will go in once the Akielon problem is solved through this marriage. It won't be anything hasty, but I do not trust Uncle to stay content strengthening Vere from the inside as he should."

"Don't worry about us. Make sure to take care of yourself." Orlant tells him.

"I'd like to apologize for having dragged you along for the past years through the courtly mud at Arles but I know-"

"I- we-" Jord interrupts him, sharing a look with Orlant, "wouldn't like to be anywhere else."

"Well," Laurent says, looking down for just a second to collect himself. "We might meet again, but not before I make the journey to Ios. In a few years, perhaps, there might be an opportunity for political contact between us again."

"Surely," Jord says. With the last squeeze of Laurent's hand, he lets go.

After that, Laurent gets drunk when he gets back to his seat. There are more meats and fruit, and cakes, both Akielon and Veretian. The girl, Lykaios, divides her attention between him and Damianos, and while Laurent's horrified at her existence as a slave, he can't help but admire her quiet efficiency in anticipating their needs. Just simple things- change of cutlery, refilling their drinkware, she even notices which sweets Laurent prefers and those are replaced more often than the others. It's a wonder Laurent's stomach is letting him enjoy the feast at all. He'd expected his nerves to make him unable to swallow a thing but it's not that bad. He's just trying not to think of anything beyond this evening.

He's sure his husband is thinking beyond this evening. He's probably already thinking of this night.

Laurent doesn't stay drunk for long. He can't keep drinking because it's making him uncomfortable and his head starts to hurt. Lykaios, once again, anticipates his needs and has the sweet fruity drink he had replaced with water. It does help his head.

It doesn't help his heart.

The performances mentioned by Lykaios are beautiful. Laurent watches what is supposed to be an adaptation of a very old Akielon poem into a song and dance. One young slave dances to it while other sings, his voice carrying far easily like it was made for this. There are two musicians creating the background melody for it. It's beautiful and just a little sad, but not too much. Laurent likes it. His husband looks at him fondly when Laurent's clapping is the loudest. He might still be a little too drunk at that point. He doesn't care.

He'd feared his husband would be the one to have too much wine and that Laurent would have to suffer the consequences later. But when it becomes late in the night and when Damianos takes his hand and suggest that they retire, his cheeks are flushed with alcohol but he's certainly well aware of himself, as is Laurent. The younger prince thinks that this might actually be worse.

He's led through the dining part of the camp where most guests are already sleeping, having drank too much. Some more sensible people are retiring at the same time their princes are. Some have left already with their spouses or their slaves to have private celebrations in the peace of their tents.

Damianos holds his hand, warns him of obstacles as they walk, though the lanterns are so numerous that Laurent sees his way well enough.

They approach the royal tent and Laurent's heart remembers that it's supposed to beat too fast, his chest remembers it's supposed to be too tight.

Damianos opens the way in for him and Laurent ducks under the flaps. The tent is richly furnished, with furs covering the flat bed and lanterns (surely maintained by slaves up until now) are making the place bright enough to see where things are. Laurent eyes the bed and waits for his husband to come inside.

First, Damianos takes him by the hand and pulls, wishing for Laurent to turn around to face him. He looks at Laurent for what feels like a long time, admiring him. Laurent stays still when his husband reaches for the knot of his laces and patiently undoes them with more skill than Laurent expected, letting the jacket loose before pushing it down along with the gifted fur collar and off his shoulders. The shirt is trickier. It's traditional and Laurent had taken advantage of tradition in his own way, making it more difficult to undress him. Damianos doesn't become discouraged and he manages to win against the shirt, as well.

Kisses warm Laurent's bare shoulder and a shiver runs down his spine. He remains frozen in place, allowing his husband to do what he will with him, but giving no encouragement or reciprocation.

It doesn't take long at all for Damianos to catch up.

"You're not of the same mind?" He asks.

"I am," Laurent replies as if there is anything else he could say.

"If you truly are, you hide it well." He sounds confused as if he doesn't understand why Laurent wouldn't be into this. He probably doesn't understand.

Laurent's shoulders bunch up, a self-protective gesture that's nothing but a mistake when Damianos is observing him and touching him. He's made himself obvious and ruined the night.

There is silence in the tent for a long while until Damianos sighs and pulls away. His touch goes away and Laurent prepares, though he can't really, for something worse than being sold.

But nothing comes at him. Not a word, not a touch. The Prince is out of his sight and when eventually, not able to bear the uncertainty and silence any more, Laurent turns, he finds the other man lying down on his side of the bedding.

"You should rest, you must be tired."

It does not make Laurent feel better. Just because his husband is gracious enough to let them spend the night in peace, it doesn't mean he won't make Laurent repay him in the morning or send him away.

Frozen still, Laurent remains sitting like he was when his husband was kissing him. He doesn't dare move and he doesn't want to lie down. It gives him a little bit of control, to be looking down at the Akielon. Lying down himself would just make him more vulnerable.

He sits and waits for gods know what and in that time Damianos falls asleep. He truly does, as Laurent watches him intently for a long minute, observing his breathing.

There are some voices to be heard around the tent. Distant voices or muffled voices, or slurring, drunk voices. It is late but there always are the ones with heads stronger than their companions, or those who joined late, or those who started early, fell asleep somewhere and then emerged once again. There are still people celebrating the wedding, Laurent thinks. His wedding. These people think the newlyweds have already done their private celebration.

Laurent feels a new weight settle over his shoulders. It's like only now his body feels the time of the night, feels how long he's been up and it craves the rest.

He should be at least able to lie down beside his husband, no? He should do at least that, for this one night. Whatever else the next day brings.

So he does lie down, pulling some of the linen bedding over his body. He doesn't need it yet but he knows it'll get cooler soon and if he doesn't cover himself now, he'll wake up to chilled limbs. Not much of a protection, but this piece of linen makes him more at ease to be beside another man. He lies facing Damianos, who hasn't shifted in his sleep yet and who's on his back.

Laurent pushes himself back up, moves just enough to be able to blow out the two lanterns. He settles back down in darkness. Then he sleeps.


	2. Unmoored

Laurent wakes slowly, his body and mind focusing first on how warm and comfortable he is in the cocoon of furs. He started the night covered with just the linens but he must have pulled more layers over himself unconsciously as his body chilled. Nights can be cool here at this time of year but he felt none of it during the night, despite sleeping in a tent instead of within the walls of his bedroom in the castle. In fact, he's the warmest he remembers being without being uncomfortably hot.

He is alone. There's no one taking up space in the bed beside him. Laurent stretches his limbs out, enjoying the physical sensations before his mind wakes up fully and makes him think of facing the day.

He doesn't know what his husband is doing. Is he with the Regent right now, telling him all about how the marriage is not consummated? Or is he preparing for the whole camp to leave soon, taking Laurent with him as was planned, thinking that he'll simply have him some other night?

Someone comes to stop in front of the tent. Light steps, most likely not a warrior's. Laurent hears them clearly and wonders who that might be.

"Exalted." It's Lykaios. "I have your breakfast and I will assist you with dressing today."

Laurent sits up, looks around himself. His clothes are still there where he left them and he gathers them to himself. He'll wear the same things as yesterday. After all, it's not like he wore a Veretian _gown_. He can ride comfortably in any of his clothes.

"I will dress myself, thank you." He says firmly enough so that the girl won't insist on helping. He rushes through it so she doesn't have to wait there with whatever food is considered breakfast in the camp. Today it's most likely what's left from the feast.

His hair's a mess. He discovers that fact when he's doing up his jacket and feels his hair falling onto the collar that he's fixing. Some of the braidings are ruined where his head was pressing against the pillows in the night and the hair that got free is all tangled. He has nothing to brush it with right now and his fingers won't be sufficient to make himself presentable in a short time. He thinks of the slave waiting for him.

"May I eat inside?" He asks her.

"Yes, Exalted."

"Then please come in."

He waits for a few seconds. Then the right flap of the tent is pulled aside and he can see Lykaios, tying up the canvas with the straps that are attached to it for that purpose. She steps back and bows down to pick something up from where she left it: a platter with pieces of bread and cold meats, some fruit on the side. Next to fruit, some sweet buns. She also brought some water in a jug. Kneeling gracefully, she sets the platter down in front of Laurent, then puts the jug next to it. Then she waits.

"I need you to do something for me," Laurent tells her before he takes anything from the food. At that, she actually looks up at him, though always avoiding his eyes, and she notices the problem herself. All slaves must be adept at this, Laurent thinks. They must be taught to do things for their masters before even the masters know they need it. She didn't see it right away this time only because Laurent is new and foreign, and her Prince's spouse. She was too afraid of offending him right away.

"May I?" She asks to be sure she can touch him and when he nods, she rises from her knees and goes to take the same position behind him. Laurent shifts, sitting cross-legged to be a little more dignified while eating his breakfast in such conditions, without a table.

Lykaios begins to undo the mess of his hair and he begins eating.

He thinks to the honorific she used for him. It is the same as Prince Damianos is addressed with and while it's just another aspect of being his husband, Laurent certainly appreciates being given the same level of respect in speech. He recalls she'd addressed him differently last night before the wedding was done.

"When do we leave?" He asks some time later.

She thinks about it without pausing her work. "They started packing one hour ago. When they're done, then we go."

So she doesn't really know how long it'll take but both her and Laurent can at least guess at the time, based on the camp's size. Although he doesn't know how many people are working at it or the details of disassembling the large tents. Lykaios probably knows perfectly well how long it takes to pack a camp on an average day but they don't have such important weddings very often and that must require much more effort and time.

It's oddly peaceful, having someone work on his hair while he's eating. It's easy for him to accept the service because it's familiar and relaxing.

It's also oddly satisfying to know this is where his uncle's influence on his life ends. Yes, he put him here, today, in this tent, but that's where it ends. Unless he sends letters to Damianos every day about him, Laurent is on his own and answering only to his husband, not the Regent and his whole rotten council.

There are parts of Akielon government, if it can be called that, based in Ios and each Clan leader is supposed to heed their advice and answer the summons when needed but out in the open, Laurent is as free as his husband will let him be.

His Akielon, barbarian husband. Laurent remembers how his body felt so near to his last night. He remembers the warmth of his hands, the strength in those fingers. Hardened skin, used to handling swords and spears. Laurent's own hands are softer. Too soft. His uncle had forbidden him from training in the months leading up to the wedding. He'd imposed many rules on Laurent in that time and most of them were meant to make him more attractive for when Damianos would actually see him in person. It'd made Laurent angry and sick to his stomach but there wasn't much he could do to fight it short of running away.

He never ran away because he knew his people's safety would be on the line.

Now, Damianos's personal slave is doing his hair in Akielon manner, her movements sure and efficient. He can't see what she's doing but he can feel the gentleness and confidence of her fingers. She uses just her hands and the ties he already had in his hair.

Eventually, they're both done with their tasks and the time comes to leave the tent. Laurent does so first, Lykaios following him three steps behind.

The day is bright, as he already noticed through the open tent after Lykaios tied up the flaps, but the sun feels better on his face when he's outside. There's a lot of movement around, all kinds of people of varying importance are walking past them on their own errands. Before Laurent has the time to think about where to direct his own steps, a man comes up to him. It's Damianos's right-hand man, Nikandros. Laurent knows he needs to be careful around this man and should show him due respect if he wants to be safe in the Clan.

At this point, Laurent wishes he woke up with Damianos at his side because he's not sure how to act around Nikandros. He's not his prince, nor his subordinate. Where Laurent fits in the list of importance of this man, he doesn't know yet. He needs to be respectful but his pride won't let him forget who he is… or was. But he's in luck: Nikandros greets him first and so he answers in kind. They use Veretian for now, even if Laurent knows how to say the greeting in Akielon. Then he waits because if the man came to him, he must have a reason for it that he'll surely tell him soon enough.

"Yesterday, the Prince and his spouse received gifts from their families. The next day, the spouse receives gifts from their new family." Nikandros says, and Laurent can hear in his voice that he's stopping himself from saying 'her' and 'bride'.

Laurent nods, expecting to be shown these gifts that are meant for him. He is a little curious, a little pleased to have something to distract him. Nikandros gestures for him to follow, so Laurent does. It's a short walk to what Laurent guesses is Nikandros's own tent. In front of it stands a line of six Akielons – all of them slaves – in typical slave garments and decorative pieces in their hair. They're of both sexes, all of them around or below Laurent's age. He guesses their purpose before Nikandros can explain it to him.

"A gift from my household to you." The general says in his not perfect Veretian. Laurent can read people well enough to know that the man does not enjoy at all speaking this language. "Choose the one you want to serve you."

The choice of slaves is excellent. Laurent would have to be blind not to see it and that removes the possibility of any mockery hidden in the gift. And he _has_ to choose. It won't benefit anyone if he doesn't accept – he may want no part of slavery but anyone he doesn't choose will remain a slave in the Clan anyway. Besides, Laurent can give them better treatment than the Akielon master they'd have instead of him. Not that he'd go so far as to assume Nikandros is a bad master. He barely knows the man at all.

Laurent looks them all over, marvelling at the variety of them. Such beauty expressed through different hair and skin colour, hair length and texture. It makes his stomach sick again.

Laurent knows Akielons won't care if he chooses a woman or a man, the same as they wouldn't care if he actually laid with her, unlike Veretians do. Still, he focuses his attention on the men presented to him. There are the rare few who stand out as fair-skinned among the rest of Akielons. Choosing one of them might appear to the Clan as an attempt on his side to keep something more familiar to him, even if there is absolutely no mistaking even the palest Akielon for a Veretian. Laurent decides to be polite and looks at obviously Akielon slaves until one permanently catches his eye. Younger than Laurent, slender, head of dark curls, olive skin. There is something soft about him that Laurent chooses to focus on. If he has to have a permanent companion, it might as well be this one.

He tells his choice to Nikandros and a second later he realizes something. "Which one speaks Veretian?" He asks quickly, embarrassed at being so thrown off balance that he didn't consider the obvious.

"All of them," Nikandros replies as if it's a given thing.

Of course. Something in Laurent's chest unknots. They've prepared for his presence here. They've gone so far as to teach their slaves his mother tongue. Surely that must mean they expect him to stay? Surely, that must mean all the worst-case scenarios that fill his head are simply not true.

So Laurent repeats his choice of the slave and Nikandros nods in approval as if all of them weren't the best possible choice.

"Isander." The Akielon general says and the slave steps forward, his eyes lowered. "You'll serve prince Laurent from now on."

Said in his tone it sounds so official. The young slave comes close to Laurent to drop to his knees at his feet, bowing low. Laurent lets him do it, lets him do what he knows. Then he speaks. "You can stand."

The young man won't meet his eyes but Laurent can see how his face is flushed. With _pride_ , Laurent realizes. He's happy to be chosen by the Prince's spouse. Obviously.

Though he hates to be grateful for a slave, Laurent does his best to express gratitude to Nikandros. It's easier to do that when he is genuinely grateful to the man for being civil to him when it's clear he doesn't approve of Laurent. He wonders how many conversations were had before the wedding was agreed on, Nikandros trying to convince the Prince not to choose the Veretian over a better Akielon choice. Or a man over a woman.

Nikandros doesn't say many words around Laurent, same as last evening; he says what he needs to say and nothing beyond that. Laurent is actually grateful for that. Even if he's gruff about it, it's refreshing for Laurent to not hear anything less than what is the truth.

With Isander given to Laurent, there isn't much else for them to do together. Laurent only thinks to ask again about the time of departure and Nikandros gives him an estimate. After that, they part ways.

*

Before Laurent can think of what to do and what to say to his slave, to Isander, another voice calls to him.

"Laurent."

Laurent turns around, following Damianos's voice. The man is walking towards them across the emptying camp field, wearing a tunic and light leather armour over it. He's smiling. He looks happy to see Laurent for the first time today and more of the pressure in Laurent's lungs disappears.

Damianos comes to a stop in front of him, close enough to take his hand. "Did you have a good morning?"

"Yes."

"We're almost ready to depart." The Prince informs him, understandably cheerful about it. They'll be moving back into his territory, going back to his capital eventually. For Laurent, this means leaving home.

The next moment Damianos notices that the slave nearby is actually waiting for Laurent, not anyone else. "Your gift? Nikandros had to go first, of course. He knew very well I have something for you too. I wanted to be first but I didn't want to wake you too soon..." He reaches up, brushing Laurent's cheek with his fingers, which Laurent does his best not to avoid. Not when they're in what can be considered public space.

"More gifts?" He asks.

"This one's from me. I hope you'll find it special." Damianos tells him with honesty in his voice.

"Show me, then," Laurent says.

He's led towards the edge of the camp, near where the fence was raised to keep horses in. They pass by the main herd and there, in a separate pen, watched over by a particularly weathered-looking Akielon man, is a horse. A tall, well-muscled horse whose grey coat is so well groomed it appears to be like silver in the sunlight. Damianos leads Laurent to that horse and the horse master opens the gate to the pen for them.

In an odd way, a nervousness falls over Laurent when he comes face to face with such excellent animal. It is simply beautiful and a picture of health. Carefully, Laurent raises his hand to touch it. The big nostrils move, sniffing his skin. Laurent is familiar with horses, has been around them since he was tall enough to be allowed near them at all. He had no horse to call his own in Arles these past years, he wasn't allowed to, he wasn't really allowed to leave the castle much and certainly not the city's walls.

Auguste had promised him once to gift him with a proper mount once he turned sixteen, but Auguste hadn't been there anymore for that birthday. Auguste's own horse, which Laurent had loved, was lost with him.

Standing in front of the grey animal, staring at it while thoughts swirl in his head, Laurent is silent.

"Is it to your liking?" His husband asks, surely losing confidence in his choice for every second Laurent doesn't approve of it.

Swallowing, Laurent turns his head to look at Damianos. "It is perfect. I couldn't ask for a better gift." That, at least, is heartfelt.

The smile returns to Damianos's face. "You need the best to carry you, especially since you don't have your own, not that I noticed. This one will serve you with its agility and stamina, and good instincts."

Laurent glances at the horse master who is waiting patiently to the side. When the man hears that Damianos is done talking, he adds to that in Akielon, which Damianos repeats to Laurent in Veretian: "Every animal is given a name at birth for luck but when given to a new owner, it should have a name you choose."

Laurent nods seriously. He will have to think about it. For now, he says his thanks in Akielon to the man and then once again to his husband.

"Do you wish to ride on it before we set out?" Damianos asks him, not looking at Laurent because he touches the horse's face too. Their hands are close together.

"Yes," Laurent says immediately.

"What is your name?" Damianos takes his hand away from the horse and turns to the new slave.

"Isander, Exalted."

"Have one of the boys fetch your prince a saddle."

Isander bows deeply and then rushes off towards wherever the boys helping with horses would be. Laurent has no idea where he himself would go looking, except by guessing by looking at the various Akielon tents and large carts and wagons.

"Take the time to learn a little about her before we have to make a longer distance," Damianos tells him while they wait.

"I will. Thank you." He says again, his heart full with this little happiness he received. Damianos nods and leaves him with the horse.

Laurent spends the few minutes petting his horse. He's not ready yet to even start thinking of a name. He takes her in, her beautiful coat and the single white sock on left hind leg.

Soon Isander comes rushing back, a young but tall boy following him, carrying a saddle that almost covers him from view but doesn't seem like it's giving him much trouble to lift and hold it. He'll surely grow up to match the adult Akielon warriors in their size and strength.

Laurent lets him put the blanket and the saddle on the horse's back but he steps in himself to tie the straps and make his own adjustments while Isander watches him. Once done, Laurent turns to the slave. "Where do you go when your masters are not around?"

"The masters' tents or the slave tents."

"So you may stay together? Do you have friends among the others?"

"We learn and practice together." Isander doesn't answer what Laurent wants to know. Still, the prince accepts it.

"I'm not going to take you riding with me so go to the others in the meantime."

Isander bows.

*

Laurent rides. Away from the camp, in the familiar fields surrounding Acquitart and towards the young trees at the edge of the nearest woods. He rides away from everything.

It's like a wall was erected between him and Vere overnight. He knows he's being dramatic in his mind but it's how he feels- he doesn't want to pass the camp and go any nearer to Vere. He doesn't want to cause himself pain. So he keeps to the edge of the woods and the meadows. He catches sight of some people in the distance travelling the road to the nearest village. They're not turned in his direction so they can't see him.

He turns around.

The horse is great. She accepts him, possibly because he's a good rider even without frequent practice and he's not annoying her. He hopes she'll like him.

*

When they return and Laurent walks back from the stables to find Isander, Damianos approaches him once again, this time not with a bright smile but something more like confusion. "I was looking for your men."

"What?"

"The ones I've seen you with yesterday. Two of them, in guard armour."

"Oh." He pauses. "Yes, they've gone to the castle and are probably on their way north at this moment."

"You were given no entourage at all?" Damianos frowns.

Laurent looks at him. He's surprised, honestly surprised that his husband is asking after them. He'd have thought it'd be expected that no more Veretians than himself should be allowed in the Clan - if he gave it much thought at all. He knew ahead of time his uncle would never let anyone accompany him on this particular road in his life. So now he's surprised by Damianos's inquiry and he has to form an answer that won't be him complaining about his uncle and which won't make him appear pathetic.

"They remain in service of the court of Vere, which I'm no longer part of. I'd think my husband is capable of providing me with all the protection I might need?"

"Of course." Damianos shakes his head as if shaking off further questions he might have. "Of course." He repeats, taking Laurent's hand.

Laurent will have to become used, quickly, to all those tactile shows of affection. He used to have them directed at him, years ago. He's learned to go without them once his mother and then his brother was gone. Of course, his husband will want to touch him, even beyond the bed… until Laurent's lack of reciprocation discourages him enough to stop.

*

When all is packed and secured, and everyone has their place in the camp-turned-caravan, they set out. There is a point they're supposed to reach before sunset so the Prince's general and other high-ranking warriors make sure there are no black sheep who'd slow them down.

Thankfully all who had too much to drink last night had enough time to recover by then. Laurent sits on his new horse, for this initial part of their travel riding right beside his husband who's in the lead. Close by rides Nikandros and then some other important members of the Clan whose names Laurent will have to learn quickly.

Slaves have their designated wagons, covered from the sun by white linen spread on wooden frames. At least they're given comfort if they're not allowed to ride a horse themselves. At least they're not made to _walk_ like Laurent had feared.

Along the way, Damianos is happy enough to fill the silence between them. Laurent pays attention once they cross into Akielos because the Prince is telling him about the lands and important landmarks they'll probably pass by.

Laurent keeps his thoughts to himself whenever Damianos speaks as if this part of the lands was always theirs. Actually, Vere used to have these rich lands, when it had been strong. It used to spread all the way here, past Acquitart and south. It wouldn't be smart of Laurent to bring that up. Even if he tried to note it like a historical fact, Damianos might reply with something that'd make Laurent want to argue… and that's simply not something he wants right now. Akielos had grown in power while Vere had weakened and the state of things is best pictured by Laurent's marriage.

*

They're still within those long-disputed lands when the sun drops low enough over the horizon that the order is given to stop and set up camp for the night. It's not the same as it has been before the wedding. Fewer tents are set up and not so many items from the carts are untied and taken off. This is only for the night, to rest and sleep.

The moment they stop and set foot on the ground, Isander appears at his side. It certainly feels like it took no time at all for him to seek out Laurent and be ready to hear his requests. Lykaios is the same at Damianos's side.

Damianos tells him he'll need to make a tour of the camp to see everything is in order and will need to give out some instructions for the morning. Laurent acknowledges the information and his husband and his slave walk away, leaving Laurent with Isander.

He's still not sure how he feels about the slave- it won't be difficult to consider him a servant like those in the castle but it's probably going to be difficult to keep pretending when Isander himself will keep doing things, small, inconsequential things, that will remind Laurent of the true nature of this arrangement.

"Have you eaten?" Laurent asks. As they travelled, the riders had the time to make stops while the carts followed at a constant but slower pace and they did not stop. Laurent had eaten with Damianos and other men at the front.

Laurent could tell they were a mix of curious about him, envious of Damianos for having him and resentful for him being a Veretian. At least at this point in history, when Vere is no longer a true equal to Akielos's power, Akielons tend to look down on Veretians rather than try and pick up fights to show who's better. It's better for Laurent as a single foreigner to be considered beneath them than a potential enemy. Being aware of that doesn't heal Laurent's wounded pride. He only keeps wondering what motivated the Prince to marry him.

While they sat, Damianos only spoke about Laurent as his spouse, neither gloating nor saying any praise for Vere. He clearly thought the same way his people did about Laurent's country, but Laurent could be hopeful to think he might be the type of man to judge each person as he sees them, not clinging to wide prejudices.

That meal was a little awkward and most certainly not how it used to look when the Prince and his people travelled when he wasn't married, but overall it could have been worse.

Now, Isander replies to Laurent's question while not looking anywhere near his eyes, "We have, Exalted."

"Was it in the middle of the day?"

"Yes."

"Well then, come with me." He says, beginning to move towards the grouped up carts. He doesn't have to think about his horse, since a team of boys – and some girls - of various ages from maybe eight to thirteen ran up to the warriors soon after the stop was announced to lead away all their horses.

Laurent approves of young people learning this way while being useful. He'd probably have loved to be among those boys when he was as young as them.

"This way, Exalted." Isander quietly says when Laurent pauses at one point, not exactly sure what is where within Akielon Clan's camp. It'd been obvious the previous night, with the food on display, but in a temporary camp most things are covered or if not covered, they're in a maze of people and carts, and wagons.

Laurent is led to a circle of carts with canvas or leather covers where he notices the number of women is greater than of men. When the women spot him, they eye him with the same curiosity as the men do. They also show the same emotions that men do when they think about his heritage, but there is also something more in their eyes.

He knows that in his place could have been an Akielon princess- or queen, as they prefer to call them. Is it better or worse that he's a man? He can't guess.

They don't bow to him but when he happens to accidentally catch eye contact with them, they nod at him. He knows they talk about him when he passes them. Of the words he recognizes, he hears his nationality and the words for hair and bright. He understands more words but it's not easy to understand the sentences they're in so he doesn't try to focus on background conversations about him.

One woman hands him a baked, round bun of sorts. She's the motherly type, past her fifties possibly. Surprised a little, Laurent takes it and his Akielon thanks make her smile.

The women wear different kinds of clothes. That is, most wear linen tunics, practical and expected. On top of them, they have all kinds of additions- aprons, shawls, belts or colourful fabrics tied at their hips. Most wear belts with leather pouches attached. Some have leather wrist-guards.

Laurent will need to learn about this… but not necessarily on his first day. For now, he wants to know where certain things are to be found within a camp and that goal is partially achieved when he finally sees a setup of fires and various cauldrons and pans nearby. Knives, utensils, pieces of meat, chopped and whole herbs and vegetables- all parts of the late dinner for the camp.

Laurent should probably wait until it's finished cooking or boiling and have the dinner with his husband but he can probably find something else to eat in the meantime?

Trying to be as unobtrusive as he can, Laurent walks slowly, looking at what's available to take.

It's the strangest situation he has ever been forced in- he is the foreigner, the intruder among people who already know each other, but he is also their leader's partner. Maybe he's not above said leader's generals but he is certainly above the 'common' members of the Clan. He should be allowed to walk among them and he certainly should be allowed to pick foodstuffs for himself, but he remains aware of the eyes on him and he doesn't wish to make enemies here.

He finds that simply looking after his slave is a step in the right direction to being liked. He asks Isander what he'd like out of the things available and is not surprised at all to not receive a clear answer from the slave. Obviously, Isander will like anything.

Laurent picks two buns covered with some sort of seeds. He's pretty sure he'd seen and eaten them before in Arles but he doesn't care to remember the name of them. He finds cheese, then some figs. He gives those to Isander to hold. Then he moves on to pastries, the mix of them held in woven baskets. He knows which one he wants for himself after he'd tried them during the feast but when he asks Isander about his choice, he gets no clear answer. Holding out two kinds of pastries, Laurent tells Isander to have both of them this evening and tell him which one he preferred later. At that, flustered, Isander finally points at the one with small round yellow fruit in it.

"Honeyplums. Made for special events only."

"Such as weddings."

"Yes, Exalted. Weddings, holidays, when a new leader is chosen or a new Clan created."

When Laurent considers the matter of the pastry concluded, Isander points to the other one he was holding.

"White nuts and wildberry. More common and most often made when children are born, to celebrate that."

"Thank you," Laurent says, watching Isander duck his head when a pleased blush colours his cheeks.

They take their finds and some water mixed with juice to where they can sit. Laurent doesn't make Isander sit next to him on the bench, he's more considerate than this. Instead of letting him kneel at his feet, however, Laurent asks Isander that he sit on the ground cross-legged, with something like a piece of canvas to protect his clothes from the dirt. Like this, it feels like sitting with a friend. Almost.

*

It's almost completely dark when they come to the tent meant for Laurent and his husband. They're the first there, no sight of the Prince or Lykaios. Laurent inspects the chests and crates set in a row outside the tent- there are his clothes and books. There are some of the other items of his for everyday use. Then there is the one containing his twisted Veretian gift- the snakes. Laurent peers into the chest, observing the animals for a moment.

A gasp from beside him tells him that Isander noticed them just now.

"Come here," Laurent says, not moving from his crouching position by the chest. Of course, the slave obeys, though there is more emotion in his eyes now than just neutral patience and need to please. He fears the snakes, but Laurent can't see panic there so he assumes Isander doesn't have any actual bad experiences with them. He probably only knows he's supposed to fear them.

"They're a pet breed. They can only bite you, nothing more. And they never do so in a way you can't predict." He pauses. "Do you know dogs?"

Isander nods. There are dogs in the Clan, though not many. They keep to their masters, who are mostly hunters. Laurent has read about dogs in Akielos, and dogs in Patras, and other places. He's read about horses, too.

There were hunting hounds in Acquitart in Arles, too, and Laurent used to sneak them treats.

"You will know when a dog is about to bite, they never do it unprovoked. You can anger or startle snake the same way you can startle a dog. Snake only has so many teeth, and you will find it easier to make it let go than a dog."

"They're staying here?"

"Well, they're staying with me but probably not in this." He pokes the wood. "For now, I think we should let them drink."

Laurent is pretty sure they were fed not long ago so he'll leave that problem for another day. As if he gave a clear order, Isander stands up from where he was kneeling beside Laurent while looking at snakes. He brings in a waterskin, which is the nearest thing containing what Laurent needs.

"Where would I get a small bowl?" Laurent asks him. He doesn't expect an answer at this point, he just watches Isander as he rushes off again to get a bowl.

Once they have it, filled with water, Laurent takes it and puts it inside the chest with the snakes. Even without looking, he can tell Isander's doing his best to keep silent while his hand is low right beside the reptiles. They do not attack him for disturbing them and the young slave breathes easier when Laurent sits back to just watch them for a minute longer.

With the snake chest open, Laurent stays nearby, looking at other items, making a mental list of what he might need in the future that he'll need to get from the Akielons.

When Laurent decides to move inside the tent, Isander asks if he should follow or wait outside until the Prince returns. Considering his answer, Laurent starts tugging at the laces holding his sleeves tight around his wrists. He can do everything he needs to do before bed himself but where would that leave his slave? Would he return to the other slaves and talk with them? Go to sleep right away? Sit doing nothing and wait until it was time for everyone to sleep?

And maybe Laurent doesn't yet want to be left alone. Maybe he wants to have someone sitting with him when Damianos returns.

"Do you know how to tie and undo laces?" He asks, settling himself to sit in the middle of the soft bedding.

"I will learn, Exalted."

"Then come in."

Gracefully, the young man slips inside the tent and when Laurent puts his arm out, the initial knot already undone and the ends of the laces in clear view, Isander kneels down and sits on his on his heels in front of him. Hesitantly, he touches the sleeve, running his fingertips over the blue fabric, feeling the raised patterns on it. The technique is much different to Akielon way of decorating things and Laurent lets Isander admire it. He rather likes it himself so he understands the wonder.

Then he begins to explain how to pull which part so that everything comes apart as it's supposed to, making no knotted mess. Laurent does most of the work, for show, and Isander practices on a few bits. For the second sleeve, Laurent asks him to do it, only having to intervene once when the younger man gets confused.

Isander helps him undress and put on the nightshirt. Then, without asking, he begins to work on Laurent's hair.

Laurent knows it's somewhat messed up by the wind they encountered on one of the hills. He'd run his hands through it too many times as well, forgetting that his braids were done by Lykaios, all starting in different places than he's used to them being.

Isander gently fixes tangles and then brushes Laurent's hair for a long while. It's peaceful, familiar, and relaxing to Laurent.

And then there is movement outside and, finally, Laurent's husband shows up. He must have known already that Laurent was inside, what with the lantern lighting up the canvas from the inside. It could be a trick of the light but his expression seems to soften when his eyes land on Laurent.

Isander stops his work to bow before the Prince so low his face is almost touching the furs they're sitting on.

Laurent should tell him to rise but he's too focused on the form of Damianos filling the space of the tent's entrance. His hair's a little more curly than before and Laurent realizes it's damp. He must have washed before coming here after the evening's work.

"You had dinner without me?"

"Yes. A while ago."

"Good. There was an issue with a wagon. I wished to come sooner-"

"But you had to solve it." Laurent finishes for him. "I understand."

Meanwhile, since he's not explicitly asked to leave, Isander sits straight again and resumes his work. It wouldn't do to leave his prince with half-done hair, not when Isander is the one responsible for it now.

Damianos settles to sit in front of them and begins to tell Laurent about where the next day will bring them. He mentions springs and Laurent perks up. He knows about them. Never seen them, since this territory was Akielon since before he was born, but he'd read about them. There was a book among the tomes on geography that contained stories about little-known spots, or those of little importance but with stories attached to them. Laurent used to love reading such things- big and small tales, legends, even scary ones. He can't quite remember all he'd read about the springs which fill with warm water naturally, no matter the season or time of day. There was a legend attached that another spring is nearby, difficult to find because while the lands are almost flat and you can see far, something about the air itself makes you turn around accidentally, make you lose your way and return to the regular springs and streams. And what you'd be looking for before being turned around, would be the natural well of Youth. Bathe in it and you won't age. If you're already aged, it'll help you regain smooth skin and strength.

Just a story. He'll ask Isander later if Akielons also know it.

For now, Laurent sits still when Damianos reaches out to touch his cheek. It's good to have a reason to keep his head still- he'd rather not have his hair tugged at accidentally. Those big fingers share their warmth with Laurent's skin.

He closes his eyes.

"You are beautiful," Damianos says. The way he speaks, it sounds honest. Like a compliment to Laurent, not a self-pleased comment on his choice to marry a beautiful person. "And your eyes… we do not have such colours in Akielos."

 _Are they why you want me?_ Laurent thinks but doesn't voice it.

Isander is almost done with the braids, Laurent can tell by his movements and by which sections of it he's touching. He'll be done and gone soon and Laurent will be left alone with his husband again.

So when the younger man announces he's finished and that Laurent's hair should be safe for the night, Laurent just accepts it.

Isander, still from his sitting position, bows deeply to them both and then leaves.

All of Laurent's focus moves to Damianos, who is still looking at him. He hasn't looked away at all, not even when Isander was leaving. His eyes are so dark in the poor light but they're not frightening Laurent.

Damianos leans close for a kiss and has to be satisfied with chaste peck because Laurent doesn't encourage anything more. Even if he wanted to, which he doesn't, he has never kissed before and doesn't even know how to go about it.

He bears it patiently when Damianos just looks at him for a while. He says not a word, just takes Laurent in. The ugly core of fear wakes up inside him again. This is their second night and maybe it's going to happen tonight when it hasn't last night.

"We should retire," Damianos says. "We'll wake up with the sun and head out soon after."

Laurent nods, acknowledging his words.

He waits until his husband is settled and then lies down himself.


	3. The Camp

The next day is the first time Laurent wakes up beside his husband. Damianos isn't gone, he's lying with his eyes closed but Laurent guesses he is, more or less, awake. His breathing tells him this, and the way he shifts sometimes. He's on his back while Laurent woke up on his side, curled towards him. The Veretian prince is sleep-warm and comfortably lazy in those first minutes after waking. Nothing compels him to move so he doesn't. He watches Damianos's profile.

It's shallow to be happy that his husband is young and strong and that his face is pleasing to the eye. His strength is what Laurent fears, but… he's always admired it. He'd admired it in his brother and in the best warriors of Arles. It pleases him, deep inside, to have _this_ instead of a man like his uncle. There is no shortage of men like his uncle, rich and looking to fulfil all their desires however they can, who'd line up to marry him given the chance. He'd rather have a husband with physical strength that scares him than a husband with a head full of schemes and no heart.

"I dreamt of you," Damianos speaks without opening his eyes. His voice is sleep-rough.

"You did?"

"We went riding together. Just two of us. And for some time you seemed happy."

Laurent listens, his eyes fixed on the side of Damianos's face he can see.

"And then?" He prompts when the pause is too long.

"It doesn't matter," Damianos says suddenly, his eyes opening and his head turning to look a Laurent. "Don't mind it, just a dream."

Laurent wishes to know the rest but dreams are a private thing and he would not wish anyone to pry into his own. So he doesn't ask.

"Will we eat together?"

"I'd like to." Damianos pushes himself up to sit, the furs falling down his body to pool at his hips. Laurent's eyes linger on his chest before he looks away.

Laurent doesn't want to get used to slaves but he will probably have to. He will have to get used to the fact that there will always be a pair of them waiting for Damianos and himself before they even rise: Lykaios and Isander, the pair to serve the newly married princes.

What Laurent doesn't want to accept as the norm is that they are so _pleased_ to be where they are, with the positions they were given. Isander's whole face lights up when he sees Laurent the first time that day and he can serve him breakfast.

"I have started learning," Laurent says to Damianos while they're eating. "your language."

"I'm sure you won't have a problem with it. I noticed you know some of it already and for as long as you need, I will aid you. Your slave will, too."

"He's been very helpful so far. Am I allowed to speak with the others?" Laurent asks. "Those without masters."

Damianos nods slowly. "If you wish, you can ask them to play for you or recite. Though I don't think poetry is the best start if you want to learn."

Laurent agrees with that. Well, maybe if he had written poems to read it'd go easier but either way, he wants to talk to people about practical matters, not about love and war.

Besides, learning Akielon isn't _why_ he wants to meet the other slaves.

*

Two hours later Laurent rides ahead driven by curiosity when he spots the edge of the springs. They're nestled between two hills, grey stones creating a frame for the water visibly steaming up into the air. The whole camp had left early so they could stay here longer. It's an unwritten custom to bathe whenever they pass through in either direction, for this Clan and the others too. Laurent's eager to get in himself to see how naturally hot water feels on the body. Even putting aside the legends of eternal youth, many people have claimed to feel better after leaving the pools.

The problem, Laurent finds, is when Akielons go in. He didn't try to be first, he just circled the springs to see how they're starting, how they're placed. When the Akielons go in first while he admires the area, it's all according to rank, of course, and Laurent has the 'privilege' of seeing the best of the Clan's men stripping naked and stepping in.

Of course they'd be naked.

Maybe if this was Vere and _maybe_ if Laurent was among his people, he'd go in naked beside them. But he's not and these men are eyeing him, wanting to see what's under his Veretian clothes and he's not about to strip for them.

"I will only be naked for my husband," he's saying sometime later when Damianos shows up and looks at him questioningly. He's looking at Damianos but his words are meant for the others. Not all of the men currently around understand him but many do. Somehow he manages to say it exactly how he meant it: firmly, not a joke for the men to add onto. Not that there won't be jokes and comments about this later when he's not within hearing distance.

Whatever Damianos is thinking, he doesn't say. He smiles. "You can still partake, it'd be a shame if you didn't. Have something brought for you to wear in the water."

Relief fills Laurent. The Prince could have either asked that Laurent do as Akielons do, or offered to go with Laurent to another spring where they'd be alone and Laurent would have to strip for him.

He follows Damianos's advice. He's going to stand out as the one clothed in the water but Laurent will take this without complaining.

He's glad to be turned away from the springs while his husband drops pieces of his armour and then his tunic, and joins his men in nakedness.

*

It does feel good. The long sigh that escapes Laurent's lips after he submerges his body up to his neck is heartfelt. He didn't even know his back needed this kind of relaxation after the previous day's travel. Damianos is grinning at the sound, telling Laurent they visit this place at least three times a year.

"So close to Vere?" Laurent blurts out. He wishes he worded it differently as soon as the words leave his lips.

"We cause no offence to Vere by travelling within our borders," Damianos says calmly.

"Of course. I only meant…" He only briefly thought of Jord, of Orlant. But what good would it do to come near the border if they'd have to travel all the way south to meet him there? "I meant nothing."

*

When they come out of the water, Isander waits with a cloth to wrap around his wet shirt. When they move to a more private spot, he helps Laurent dress in his laced clothes and dries the ends of his hair which got wet. With that done, Laurent takes Isander on another pastry hunt.

They don't have much time today in their schedule for that but Laurent makes sure Isander has eaten enough and while they're sitting among the women and the men who tend the carts with utilities and foodstuffs, Laurent listens to conversations intently. Not that he's looking for private details, no. He's only trying to get used to the names of items and the flow of the conversations. He wants the people to get used to him, too.

* * *

It goes like this for two days: breakfast with his husband, riding by his side, a break to eat. More riding. In the evening, Laurent spends time with Isander while Damianos watches over the camp and holds meetings with the scouts. Most of the time Lykaios follows Damen but some times she'll spend some hours with Laurent instead when Damianos doesn't need anything from her.

Those scouts bring information one day, in the late morning, about wildfires that they've noticed in the distance ahead of them. There is a meeting called with the officers and Laurent present, thought the Veretian prince is only there to listen. His knowledge of local geography and the winds is insufficient for him to offer advice, though he does know the common strategies to handle wildfires.

They will wait for it to die out or move away, driven by the east-bound winds. Should it take a turn for worse, they'll move towards the rocky hills to the north, despite the inconvenience it'll mean for them.

So the camp stays where it is, more things being unpacked and set up in anticipation of additional tasks that will need to be completed. This leaves everyone with changed plans for the day.

At first, Laurent follows Damianos, wishing to learn more and not wishing to be left behind like someone who's better suited to sitting down and looking pretty. It goes fine for a while and it's clear it pleases Damianos to have Laurent around. Meanwhile, Laurent is getting the hang of the ranks and names. He makes note of how they look at him since he can't know what they say about him behind his back. He also notes how some of the men call his husband 'Damen'. Nikandros does so, but apparently he tries not to around Laurent. Does he want Laurent to only show proper respect for the Prince by also showing proper respect? Probably.

Laurent only decides to step back when his curiosity is satisfied for the day and he'd rather not push the others' patience. Damianos obviously didn't mind but one would have to be blind or naive not to see that the Veretian's presence irked some men. They said nothing, at least nothing Laurent could understand and nothing that Damianos would comment on, but it was in their eyes that they'd prefer him to go elsewhere sometimes.

Not that there were secrets for Laurent to learn and exploit later, even if he were a spy. He'd asked Damianos not to worry about him and not to translate _everything_ for him. The Prince seemed perfectly happy to explain things to Laurent, with pride, like he expected Laurent to admire every working of Akielon camping, scouting and the way guarding shifts worked. And yes, some details were impressive, and probably would not work in Vere as well as they do here.

Excusing himself, Laurent leaves Damianos's side to find himself another thing to do.

*

He finds his way to the slaves. Within a camp, though its size is impressive, there isn't much room to separate any specific kinds of slaves like it's done in the cities.

Laurent learns that the youngest slaves are kept with the others and spend time together. If their keepers allow much talking, Laurent doesn't know yet. Maybe they're like strict teachers, only allowing 'worthy pursuits' like some of those who'd taught Laurent when he was a child. They have keepers, tutors, women who cook specially for them. As far as art goes, the older ones teach the young ones. They teach them how to play, how to speak well, how to sing well. They spend the time during travel memorizing Akielon poetry and songs. They're tested on their knowledge by the keepers.

When the prince first approaches the slave 'quarters', led there by Isander, he sees walls of canvas sectioning off a square within the camp. It's so no one stares too much at the beautiful faces and bodies of the slaves, Laurent assumes, though Isander says it's so they're not distracted and so that they always have shade to sit in. The last part, at least, is a good thing.

There are quite a few of the slaves there and all fall to their knees to honour Laurent's presence the moment the first of them spot him. Laurent regrets making them do that but it couldn't be helped if he wants to meet them.

One keeper approaches him, asking if he wishes to have another slave for his own use, to which Laurent immediately says no. He'd told Isander he wished to know more of his people so that the younger man wouldn't fear being replaced so soon for being inadequate. Laurent had told him he depends on him for help, for guidance, just as his husband has asked everyone to offer to him. Isander brightened with happiness at that, which brought mixed emotions to Laurent's heart.

The slaves wear different garments. That is, Laurent can see certain patterns in the accessories they wear and in the fold of their clothes. Those who look younger have a wide, pale blue stripe along the lower edge of their chitons. Among those who look older, some wear pins on their shoulders. Laurent recalls Lykaios having a pin in the strap on her shoulder, a lion head.

There's _a lot_ of white in one area. That's Laurent's first thought when he takes in the whole place. A lot of white, a lot of perfect skin, not a hair out of place. Laurent imagines it might be like an oasis to come to this after a battle or after a long, tiring travel. And it would be fine if this was a place to rest and admire the beauty and listen to a song. But it's not. These slaves leave their section of the camp to go to their masters if they have them or to attend events and service those Clan members who are considered worthy enough to have a slave attend them.

It would be fine if they weren't made to lie with their masters regardless of their own preferences.

The keeper, of course, would _like_ Laurent to have another slave. Just to boast that they're so well-trained that the strange Veretian prince appreciated them so much. It's one of the reasons Laurent is allowed to be here at all. Second reason: being Damianos's husband, which in this particular situation puts him higher than the generals. It's different here for Laurent than it is for the warriors.

Isander is carrying himself a little differently here than when he's out in the camp. He's a little more… dim. That's what comes to Laurent's mind. As if he prefers to be less visible, avoiding bringing attention to himself. It occurs to Laurent that while Isander was given to him from Nikandros's own harem, he must have been taught first among other slaves by keepers and tutors. Laurent hopes this dimness doesn't mean that Isander fears this place. Shouldn't he be proud? To leave training only to come back by a prince's side?

They're curious about him, he can tell. The younger ones are more prone to looking too long and then ducking their heads and blushing when Laurent's eyes meet theirs. The older ones are more subtle about it.

None dare approach him.

Laurent doesn't plan on staying long today, not after making waves with his first appearance. He'll come back. For now, to justify his visit, he asks if the slaves know anything Veretian as far as art goes. The keeper lights up, exclaiming "Naturally! The most beautiful poems of Vere and even Patras."

He goes on to list a few poems and songs that are indeed very well-known across Vere but Laurent didn't even realize they were popular across the borders. Finding this out pleases him and he says so. Declining an offer of a demonstration, he says he'll leave that for another day.

* *

Laurent finds his husband in a training ring. The ring's set up on a grassless ground, where it's firm enough that feet don't get buried in loose soil or sand. The men interested in participating or just spectating surround the circle like a fence.

They're fighting with swords. There are two warriors inside right now and by the signs of exertion on their bodies, Laurent guesses they've been at it for a while. Damianos is looking on from the crowd, sometimes shouting advice like the others do. Or insults, meant to rile up one or the other fighter to make them put more effort in. It's a loud affair.

Laurent watches, too. Then, when the turn ends and he thinks of going elsewhere to occupy himself, his husband takes place in the ring. Well, now Laurent has to stay and watch. Out of curiosity.

The opponent is maybe a bit younger than Damianos but also built well and apparently excited to try his skills against the Clan leader.

It's interesting to watch. Even if doing so brings up the memories of his own training with Auguste. Akielon way of sword-fighting differs from Veretian. Firstly, the swords differ in shape a little, though the general idea is the same. Then, many moves rely on strength, which Akielons have a lot to spare. Especially those as big as the Prince.

Laurent watches and tries to memorise what could be useful to him. Maybe, in the future.

The cheering and the insults are different when the Prince is in the ring. They don't stop and they don't spare him, but it's different. Most importantly, the man doesn't make many mistakes that could be laughed at. Almost none at all. The men call him out on going easy on the other fighter. Laurent thinks they may be right. The younger man is good, he puts in the effort, but he's the one more tired and the one who's on defence more often.

Until a well-timed move from Damianos makes the sword fly from his hands to fall some distance from them, stabbing into the ground and staying stuck. Then the laughs and cheers grow in volume.

Laurent smirks.

"Damianos-Exalted is the best warrior," Isander says in his quiet voice. Laurent has almost forgotten he was there at all, so invested he was in watching the fight.

"I suppose he must be," Laurent says.

After leaving the ring and accepting a cup of water, Damianos finally spots Laurent standing to the side, away from the other men.

He walks up to him quickly, spring in his step.

"A kiss for the winner?" He asks, with a smile on his face that makes one of his cheeks grow a dimple.

"All the winners? Or the one who conveniently won when I was here?"

Damianos huffs. "You've not seen the others?"

"No."

"Then you've lost nothing."

"You'll put your men's skills down just to receive a kiss?"

"Maybe. Maybe I'd do more for a kiss from you." He says.

Laurent looks up at his face. They're very close now, Damianos not keeping his distance at all. Laurent is aware they're in public space… so he lifts his hand and places is where it's convenient- on his husband chest.

He feels muscles. Firm, large muscles.

"You may have your kiss," Laurent tells him, no waver in his voice but he's betrayed anyway, by his heating face.

Damianos touches his cheek first, his hot skin touching Laurent's. Then he leans closer, while Laurent tilts his head up in anticipation. He doesn't know what to expect- if Damianos will go for a chaste peck or something more.

Their lips touch and a sigh leaves Laurent.

"Did you have a good day?" Damianos asks, still very close to Laurent.

"I did."

"May I have another kiss?"

"Yes."

This time it's different, the Prince going for more than he got the first time… and Laurent lets him. His lips part and for the first time in his life, he's kissed fully.

He should dislike it… but he doesn't. He doesn't know what he's doing but his husband clearly does. Damianos isn't forceful, isn't demanding in the kiss. He leads like it's a dance.

When it ends, Laurent bites his lip, looking down.

*

Damianos still doesn't touch him at night as days pass and the Clan moves on after the brief stop due to fires. That is, he touches Laurent's face when he kisses him goodnight. He touches Laurent's hands or the small of his back when he wants to lead him somewhere.

He notices when freckles dot Laurent's face and makes the younger man blush when he compliments them.

Laurent becomes used to sleeping with Damianos, to have constant company through the night. Sometimes he wakes up for a minute or two when unfamiliar sounds reach his ears. He is still becoming used to sleeping in a tent. The royal tent is thick, the leather-covered canvas blocking out much of the noise and chill of the night. Some things still reach Laurent, however, who is more familiar with the echoes of a stone castle's corridors and wooden doors.

He's used to the steps of guards on the stone floors and here they step over ground and grass, mostly silent.

Whenever he wakes up, he lies for those minutes it takes him to fall back asleep, listening to the night and to his husband's breathing. Burying himself deeper in the furs, Laurent closes his eyes.

* *

Whenever it's convenient in the course of camp life, Laurent goes to visit the slaves and talks with them, using more and more Akielon words and phrases. The keepers don't have much reason to complain about him. He's learning Akielon, just as the Prince has instructed everyone to assist him with. He also listens to the songs and poems promised to him.

Usually, he sits on a round, wicker stool, with a pillow with Patran patterns on it for comfort while one or two slaves kneel behind him, their eyes on level with Laurent's undone hair. The keepers approve of this service, if only because it's good practice for the younger slaves.

Laurent's hair is different to theirs and to what they're used to caring for. Much more straight and fine, while the amount of it makes up for the fineness.

Laurent has already learned it frizzes badly in the drier air of Akielon midday. They're moving south-west still, to the Akielon coast and Ios perched on the cliffs. Laurent's hair and skin feel it. Remembering the way he was made to use creams for his skin before the wedding, he feels an odd kind of satisfaction when it stops being as nice as before. He isn't, however, so willing to hurt himself just to spite his uncle, who isn't there. He asks Isander for something to help the dryness from the sun's heat and he receives a new salve of purely Akielon origin. It works, letting Laurent's hands recover from holding reins.

Laurent's clothes, though made for southern Vere, are already too thick for where they are. And his hair, it sometimes becomes an annoying layer on top of the clothes, making him sweat too much. He complains about this once and the slaves, with Isander first to protest, make him promise not to cut it. It's hard to say how much of the protesting is because they personally find his hair pleasing and how much is fear of the Prince's reaction once he found his husband's hair shorter.

In the end, Laurent is pleased enough having the best reason to sit among the slaves and have the opportunity to talk with them uninterrupted.

* *

One morning, after Lykaios has removed the bowls she'd brought their breakfast in and Damianos has left him so Laurent could dress with Isander's help, Isander comes late.

He's flushed with both exertion and shame at being late and he falls to Laurent's feet first. Then, once Laurent, who's sitting there confused about what is happening, allows him to rise, Isander presents his gift. He brought a rather large object with him, leaving it at the tent's entrance for the time it took him to bow. Now he pulls it inside and Laurent can take a look. It is a half-round wicker container with a flat bottom so it can sit without easily toppling over. It has a top that one can take off but there is thick thread wrapped around the container and pulled through loops made in the weaving, so the thread is secure once tied. Isander unties it and removes the top to reveal the inside. It is made of glass. It's a glass bowl sitting inside its woven armour, so it won't crack. It immediately brings to mind the large glass jugs enclosed in wickerwork he'd seen wine in.

There is nothing to see beyond the container itself- it is empty and doesn't smell of anything but the materials its made of.

"For the snakes," Isander says.

Ah. Laurent can see how that might be a good idea.

"No splinters." Isander continues in Veretian. "Not too dry."

"Yes, thank you. Have you come up with it?"

Isander looks down shyly. "I've been thinking about it, then I saw this. I asked that it's given to you."

"Thank you," Laurent says again. "We need to add something to make it soft for them." Some tree bark, some dried grass.

He has been feeding them raw pieces of meat meant for the dinner but Laurent didn't believe the snakes liked it very much. They'd prefer a whole mouse and he'd have to start thinking about traps for them. It'd be much easier in a city, but he has to work with what he has.

Laurent is still in his nightshirt when they begin moving the snakes into their new home. He's holding one in his lap, the snaked curled up and only its moving tongue pointing to where the head is under the tail, when Lykaios comes to the tent. She asks his approval before entering and Laurent doesn't think twice about the animal in his lap when he gives it.

She gasps, as he should have expected, but she doesn't retreat. She stays frozen where she is, her eyes on the snake.

"You may come in," Laurent says, repeating the invitation as a way to calm her down. Said by a prince, those words may as well be an order. Lykaios comes closer, very wary, and she stops some distance from Laurent and Isander.

Her eyes don't leave the snake. Does she even remember there are three of them? Laurent has been very careful to have them visible only when Isander is around. He doesn't want to remind the Akielons of their existence, should someone be determined enough to get rid of them when he wasn't there. He's fairly certain Damianos himself wouldn't do anything like that but Laurent keeps the snakes out of his sight too, just to be safe.

With Lykaios there, Laurent decides to explain to her the same he'd told Isander. It'll be good to have her to help, too, should he need it. He doesn't ask her to try handling them like he taught Isander to do, but he mentions the food and the water they need, and she accepts the information with a thoughtful expression on her face.

*

Later that day Laurent and Damianos have their warm meal together. The etiquette is so much different here than in the castle. There is no ceremony attached to the Prince and his spouse having their main meal of the day. They take it when it's ready and when _they_ 're ready to sit down and eat, which is why it was not an issue for Laurent to have only Isander for company the previous days when Damianos was occupied.

While they're together, alone, Laurent's mind urges him to talk. And what he wants to talk about are the slaves. He sends Isander away before starting the topic and the young man goes, along with Lykaios when Damianos told her to do the same, guessing that's what Laurent wants.

They're sitting on a bench in front of their tent, shielded from the wind by its walls.

"Your slaves are not allowed to handle weapons?" Laurent asks, his hands putting away the now empty bowl of fruit pieces.

"No."

"No way of fighting at all?"

"No. For what purpose?" Damianos asks, his voice taking on a confused tone. He's still not done with his plate but he pauses eating to look at Laurent.

"To protect themselves should the camp be attacked."

"That is what our warriors are for. To fight for those who can't."

"What if they wanted to?" Laurent goes on.

"Why would they? How will any of them touch the one they're serving with fingers rough from handling swords? How will they find the time to add fighting to their training? Do you expect them to spend hours handling horses, too, so they can use them, to come back smelling of horse hair?"

"I don't imagine the majority of them would want to, no. If you're honest about protecting them."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Say a Clan as large as this attacks us, or some other kind of enemy who'd pose a true danger- who will you protect first?"

"Laurent…" This time Damianos puts his plate down. "We watch out for our own. _All_ of our people. You don't keep slaves in Vere-"

"No, we _don't_ ," Laurent says sharply but Damianos just shakes his head.

"So I don't believe you understand why we have them. Why we keep them. If our slaves take up all the menial tasks and turn to warfare, who will devote the time that is needed to memorize our songs, our art? Who will we return to for rest?"

"Your families and spouses? Members of your Clan who actually _want_ to do it?"

"Our family members, who will be as weary as the rest from the day's work? We protect the slaves, so they may be beautiful and soft, and so that their eyes aren't hiding weariness."

"You're giving them no chance to choose if maybe they'd rather be always tired than be someone's _belonging_."

"It isn't easy for _anyone_ to be what one wants. How happy are your Veretian Pets?"

"They're _paid_." Laurent doesn't know how aware exactly Damianos is of Pets but it is actually a sore point for Laurent, too.

"For a while. Until their services aren't wanted anymore. Our slaves are cared for even after they've aged, in sanctuaries built in each of our cities."

Laurent breathes in, then out. He's not going to win this today. "I'd like to see those sanctuaries, once we reach Ios."

"You will, I promise."

Something is still on Damianos's mind, Laurent can see it in his eyes. "Has someone complained to you?"

Laurent snorts. "As if I'd say. No, no one has."

"And they won't. They're happy to serve. They're happy to have their training appreciated."

"I've noticed," Laurent says, now a little bitterly.

The silence between them isn't comfortable while it lasts. Laurent's sitting stiffly, his fingers toying with the ends of his laces. Damianos sighs.

"Maybe no one complained to you, but _I_ have heard something about _you_."

Laurent feels cold as if a chilly wind hit him. He has no idea what Damianos means.

"You make our slaves sad. Apparently, they look upon you and see great sadness."

Laurent breathes again.

"What do _you_ see?"

"I see it too. But not just that."

"If you mean to tell me you see beauty too, I won't be much impressed."

"Does it cause you to be sad?"

"It causes me to be many things. Most of all, a pawn."

"You aren't one here."

It is unfair that Damianos was born with such eyes, the soft brown of them always compelling Laurent to trust, to believe.

"I haven't been here nearly long enough for you to be able to say this with certainty."

"Then I will have to give us time. For you to feel safe. And for me to prove myself to you." The Prince says like it's a decided thing, something to look forward to completing.

"You have nothing to prove, Damianos."

"But you _don't_ feel safe?"

Silence again. Laurent stops playing with the laces.

"Am I allowed to take up a sword?" He asks instead of answering.

At that, Damianos smiles, which Laurent sees because he's looking up at him.

"The ring is always open, so long as there's someone to duel with around."

* *

Damianos doesn't forbid him from talking with the slaves. He has all the right to, but he doesn't.

One slave, in particular, catches Laurent attention. Mostly because Laurent is the one who caught the slave's attention first and he can feel his intent gaze on him nearly constantly when he's in the slave quarters. Yes, they all look at him just like any other group would look at a person who's talking within that group but there is something else about the young man. He's even younger than Isander is, more like a boy.

Laurent doesn't sense hostility of any kind coming from him if slaves are capable of it at all. But he wonders about the intensity of staring.

He catches the young man's gaze across the small distance they're from each other. He's sitting a little in the back, not as close to Laurent as Isander and Lykaios, and other more experienced, bolder slaves are.

Honey-brown hair sits on his head like a softest halo, making him stand out among the other, more 'Akielon' slaves. His skin is like honey too, paler than the others are. He's beautiful in a sweet way. When caught staring, he lowers his eyes immediately with an ashamed blush on his face.

Laurent looks at the edge of the chiton he's wearing, where a blue stripe of training stretches. Then, to his own surprise, Laurent spots a pin sitting in the fold of fabric atop his shoulder. He already belongs to someone, though Laurent can't tell the details from a distance. It must be for his looks, then. Someone already chose him for themselves. Or possibly the keepers chose his future.

Laurent sees the pin up close another day.

"You are to be the Prince's." He says, nearly startling the poor boy when he addresses him directly. He bows down, ready to kneel at the slightest indication from Laurent that he wishes him to do so.

"Yes, Exalted. I was chosen for him from the start."

Laurent processes the information. He's not surprised.

"Because of your fair skin and hair?"

"The Prince finds beauty in it." He's looking down, his body very still.

"I've noticed. Are you still to be his when he's now married?"

The boy shifts nervously, paling a little. "I've not been told otherwise… But… with you, Exalted, by his side, I can only hope he'll still want me at all."

"Damianos-Exalted should have more than one slave." Another voice says. Laurent turns to it, surprised.

"He deserves that." The voice finishes. Another slave, a little older than the fair one, spoke without being asked to. Laurent takes him in with his gaze. He has dark hair and blue eyes, there's something sharper in his gaze than Laurent sees in other slaves.

"What is your name?" He asks the younger slave, turning back to him.

"Erasmus, Exalted."

"And yours?"

"Kallias, Exalted."

Laurent hears the difference in how the two of them say the same word to him. The older one, Kallias, is definitely bolder. But is he like that always? Or only when Erasmus is around?

"Why do you think the Prince wouldn't want you now?" Laurent asks.

"I couldn't hope to compare to you, Exalted." Erasmus sounds like he'd rather be anywhere else than having this conversation. Laurent wants to give him some reassurance.

"He didn't send Lykaios away after I came to live with him," he says, "so I don't think you have to worry."

Erasmus shakes his head. "She was with Damianos-Exalted the longest! She's one of the best of us. The Prince can't be without a slave at all." He is offended at the very idea of it on Damen's behalf. Laurent would think it was sweet if he wasn't horrified by slaves' mindset.

Laurent glances at Kallias. He can't read him as easily as the others.

Laurent doesn't say anything to him but to Erasmus, he says, "You shouldn't want my hair, nor anything else of mine. It's brought me no luck."

"Why do you say that, Exalted? Are you not happy here?" Erasmus asks, as bewildered by the very idea as he was just moments before.

"I'm not sure I know how happiness feels."


	4. Patrans and drunk Princes

Laurent has a bad day. He wakes up after a night filled with half-remembered nightmares and while he's physically rested, a cloud hangs over his head. Just foolish dreams, undoing the good mood he'd been in lately. Well, it wasn't a _good_ mood. He was content enough with waking up every day, falling into the rhythm of the camp, learning. Getting used to Damianos.

Accepting his life here is very different than accepting his life in Arles under his uncle's shadow. It is better.

But this time dreams settle over his memories, tricking him, confusing him as to what is real. This time, it is Damianos whose shadow settles over Laurent.

He's quiet at breakfast which he has with just Isander for company. Isander accepts his mood and for the whole day, he's like a ghost following always three steps behind. It only makes Laurent angrier inside that the slave training is so good.

On a day like this, every little thing which he could ignore another time grows to be an issue. He's annoyed by the fit of his sleeve and by the way one of the braids makes his scalp itch.

In his mind, he collects all the whispers behind his back, all the looks his way he considers less than neutral.

Like this, he knows he should not stay among people.

He sends Isander away and heads to the stables, but not to ride. He gets the grooming tools from the stable boys and spends his time taking care of Stella. Once she's shiny and has received more than fair share of treats, Laurent's still not pleased with his state of mind. So he moves on to the next horse to brush it, too. He didn't braid Stella's mane because he liked how it looked in the sun after he brushed it, but he decides to braid this next horse's mane and tail.

The people around let him be. The horse master talks to him in Akielon for a short while, Laurent actually accepting his company because of who the man is. When he doesn't understand something, he asks the man to repeat, which he does for Laurent. Before the older man returns to his duties, he asks if Laurent wishes to see the Prince's stallion. Obviously, Laurent has had many occasions to see the animal up close but he never sought it out when the camp was set up and the horses were kept in their pens.

He nods and the horse master leads him there.

The great black animal is put aside from the others just like Stella is. Some other horses belonging to generals like Nikandros are also kept separately but the rest is divided into groups, looked after teams of boys and young men in training.

The stallion stands under a shed's roof, completely black coat even darker in the shadow.

 _Phobos_. _Fear_. A great name for a warhorse which meant for nothing but victory whenever it rides out. Much like his master. Laurent wishes it could rub off on him, this drive to success.

The same intelligence he sees in Stella's eyes are here in the eyes of Phobos. But there is more in them, too. Surety, of a kind. Determination.

He gazes at Laurent with perfect calmness. He doesn't ask for a treat like the other horses do, their noses seeking apples in pockets and hands. When Laurent offers him a carrot on his open palm, Phobos sniffs it first, then takes it with no hurry at all, like he's the one doing Laurent a favour. Laurent smiles.

*

The day finally comes to an end after Laurent spends it hiding among horses and then reading a book.

When both princes are left alone for the night in the tent, Laurent doesn't lie down right away as always.

He sits on his heels, his fingers steady as he undoes the short ties of his nightshirt that he had already put on. At first, all Damianos does is watch him because it doesn't immediately occur to him that Laurent might be doing anything than cooling himself down by taking the garment off. When he pulls the shirt off over his head and comes to straddle Damen, the Prince's perception of the whole thing changes.

His hands come up to Laurent's hips, not to pull him closer but to steady him and keep him where he is.

"What are you doing?"

"What is obvious."

"Why?"

"I'll explain something to you, my honourable barbarian prince." Laurent starts on a strong note before hesitation makes him pause. He started, however, so he needs to continue.

"This arrangement that binds us together is a marriage of convenience to you and my uncle. If not you, it would have been the next 'highest bidder'. I wanted to spare myself the pain of prolonging the whole affair, so I'd agreed. I also agreed because Akielos is stronger than we are. Even divided into clans, you are stronger. I feared for my people so that we're not destroyed completely… so I agreed to go.

I left everything behind… Acquitart, where I'd last seen Auguste and where I'd last been happy."

"Laurent…" Damen's eyes widen, confusion in them obvious. He doesn't know what brought all this on.

"So if we're to be married, let it be in full."

"It doesn't _have_ to be," Damen replies.

"It does. How long will you last, not touching me?"

"As long as it takes."

"Even now, you desire me."

"I do. I won't stop desiring you but I _will_ wait."

"Because you have slaves. Did you not lie with Lykaios since our wedding?"

"I did," Damen admits, looking him in the eyes. "Two times. In the first week."

"And after that?"

"I didn't want to."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted _you_."

"You wanted blond hair and pale skin and you got them. Why won't you take me?"

"Yes, I wanted all that. But I wanted to marry the one with royal blood, with the same blood Auguste of Vere had. Because I knew him, and I knew him to be an excellent knight, and I wanted to meet his brother. When the offer was made I didn't think long about accepting it. I didn't know it was without your consent."

It may make Laurent feel somewhat better about himself but it doesn't fix the problem. He looks into Damen's eyes for a few long seconds. Then, he speaks.

"It can't be taken back and I don't want to leave. Something has to change."

"Then just _stay_ , be by my side."

Damen lets go of Laurent's hips and takes one of his hands in his instead.

"You're a wounded creature. Do you think I'm blind to it after all this time? I only wish… when you think about yourself belonging to me, I wish you'd consider that I belong to you, as well. Do you not think of me as yours?"

Anger fills Laurent. Deep inside and not at Damen. It's a general kind of anger, filling his lungs with air that hurts to breathe. And then sadness.

His husband's words are soft and true, and Laurent has no bite left to answer them with. The other man makes no move where he's under Laurent. His hands remain points of warmth on Laurent's body.

"You insist you're mine," Damen says when Laurent remains silent. "Then let me hold you tonight."

Laurent wants to be held and he knows this as soon as Damen offers. If he isn't, he might just crawl out of his own skin for how wrong everything is. For how frustrated he is. He just wants it to stop. He wants Damen to take this anger inside him and smother it by holding Laurent tightly.

*

Morning brings a change for the better. Laurent wakes up with a lighter heart and a clear mind, his eyes opening to the sight of his husband beside him. Damen gives him a smile when their eyes meet. Laurent finds that he's able to return it without faking it.

When Damen rolls onto his side so that it's easier for him to reach out to brush his fingers on Laurent's cheek, Laurent leans into it. He likes the warmth of Damen's hand on his skin and he's come to expect it, over the weeks he's spent in the Clan. But the touch of hands is different than giving all of his body to another man and Laurent won't be ready for that for a long time. And maybe it's not a bad thing. Maybe he can believe his husband and trust him with this.

Maybe when he learns to let go of the anger, it'll all be easier.

* * *

There is a threat from the Wild Tribes. They're noticed by the scouts and there is news about them from the villages they pass by. The villages are maintained by hunters and their families who do not belong to a Clan. They're part of Akielos's economy and are rarely mistreated by Clans. Only the most power-hungry and vicious leaders would raid and steal from a hunting village. There are woods in this area and it is convenient to have a steady team of hunters so that the meat can be traded, for example to passing Clans. It is also bought by merchant caravans from Patras or Vere on the way to the main cities. Where hunters live, the carpenters also set up their business. Most of the wood for house building comes from the lands near the border with Vere, called Delpha. Some wood comes from Patras. Laurent knows the Veretians living near the borders want to sell to Akielons, too, because it is profitable.

Clans never travel through thickly wooded areas. Firstly, it is impractical because of their wagons and carts and secondly, very dangerous. Clan's own hunters and warriors will go there if needed, but if villages are nearby they don't bother, preferring to pay for the goods.

Damianos and his generals talk about the problem of the Wild Tribes, with Laurent sitting at his husband's side, listening. It is agreed that a unit will be made to go out and search for the Tribe causing problems. Nikandros will stay to manage the camp while Damianos will go to lead the warriors. Laurent stays in the camp.

It isn't clear when they will be back. While he'd like to know, Laurent understands the reality of it- they will have to track the Tribe first, then attempt to make them retreat, then possibly fight them, forced to erase the whole Tribe. It's impossible to predict how long it'll take.

Waiting between the woods and the villages, Damianos's Clan sets up camp and life goes on.

Laurent tends to his snakes with the help of Isander and Lykaios. The girl is now constantly with them when the Prince isn't there.

When the Prince isn't there, Laurent finds that it's much easier to hear stories about him. The women who take care of their food are much more likely to talk about him to Laurent. It's apparently bad luck to gossip about a Prince, a leader, when they're with the Clan. Especially if the leader is liked within his Clan. It's a strange superstition to Laurent but he doesn't care either way. With Damianos out there, Laurent gets to hear stories from his youth, which some of the women have witnessed personally and some have heard elsewhere.

It's then when Laurent hears for the first time – and he doesn't know why it hadn't crossed his mind before – that among the children constantly running around are Damen's children too. Among the toddlers, there are a few born by the unmarried women who were interested in lying with the Prince.

"If it's blood that makes a king, then the blood will shine through and let them be successful." One of the Akielons talking to Laurent says. "If it's not blood, their own merit will bring them to the same success. Either way, the leader will be deserving of his rank."

Laurent can see the logic of it and how it serves to solve some problems within the Clan as far as inheritance goes. He can also see some new problems with it but where power is considered, there are always issues.

Laurent himself isn't sure how he'd feel if he and Auguste, knowing they were of royal blood, were made to compete with other children of courtiers. He is too used to being part of Vere's royalty to think of anything but blood relations… all gone now save for the Regent. The knowledge of his royal blood had helped him keep his head up during some dark days.

From that point, Laurent observes the children more closely, looking for familial resemblance. He doesn't know which free women his husband had lain with and to his Veretian eyes, Akielons are still too alike.

It was true, what his uncle had said. There will be no children with half _his_ blood running around.

Since he's paying attention to the children, he also notices one more thing: some of the boys differ from others. It's just details, like the shape of their noses or mouths, or both. When Laurent inquires about that, he hears they're half-Vaskian and that he won't find girls with the same features here.

When meeting with the Vaskians for whatever reasons, there is always the customary _service_ the best warriors provide.

Now that Laurent knows this, he recalls reading about this a long time ago. Yes, there was a mention in a book of the Vaskian bonfires, only the true nature of them had flown right over young Laurent's head at the time. Now he gets it. Does Damen always participate? Most likely, yes. The women would be most interested in him for his status, as it is proof of his strength and other qualities.

Is he going to participate in the future? Laurent doesn't know and he avoids thinking about how it would make him feel.

* *

Since Damen isn't there, Laurent thinks it'd be good to build a relationship with Nikandros independent of the Prince, who is the common link between them. At first, when Laurent approaches the general he is distrustful of his motives. Laurent convinces him that he only means to learn. He's particularly interested in the maps that are always kept in the meeting tent while the camp is set up. Laurent asks Nikandros to be allowed to see them and if he doesn't trust him with them, then he should stay and watch him.

It's easy to convince him, after all, since Nikandros already spends a significant amount of time in the tent, which is the equivalent of a castle's council chamber or a cabinet.

That's how Laurent manages to have more conversations with the man in a few days than he had since joining the Clan.

He's not hopeful enough to believe that just showing interest in Akielos will change the other man's opinion of him, but Laurent knows it's a good start.

It's probably Laurent willingness to listen that makes the semi-permanent frown disappear from Nikandros's face. Once he sees that the prince isn't there only to stare at maps like someone who's planning an invasion, he becomes more welcoming. Learning from Nikandros is different than learning from Damen. The former considers it important to delve into the details which would be considered boring by most people. Not Laurent, however.

* *

On the fourth day of the wait, a new arrival is announced. A caravan too grand to belong to a merchant heads their way.

It belongs to prince Torveld of Patras, whose travel through these lands wasn't a secret to the Akielons. In fact, they've agreed on a meeting for mutual benefit, taking advantage of their rare proximity. It wouldn't be soon that they would have the opportunity to meet otherwise. The problem is, Damianos isn't here. He was supposed to be, knowing very well of the Patran prince's visit, but they're coming too early.

The Patrans are ahead of schedule and Damianos is late with the patrol.

Nikandros is wholly unhappy with the situation because this could very well be an important meeting and the Prince should attend it. It'd be unacceptable to make Torveld waste time and wait however long it'd take for messengers to go out and find Damianos's party to bring them back.

"We'll do without Damianos," Laurent tells him. "You're his general, I'm his husband. We're enough for prince Torveld to accept as partners in talks."

Maybe Nikandros doesn't agree that it's enough, Akielon etiquette giving him rules to follow, but it's clear he wants to agree to do this. And he does. He nods, and begins to give orders and instructions to the people who are closest first, then moving on to the others who need to be notified. Laurent lets him to that on his own, he doesn't mind. He has to prepare.

Isander follows on Laurent's heels as the prince moves quickly to where his clothes are stored. His new shirts, more fitting for Akielon days, are now on top of the large chest. His old shirts, jackets, and trousers are there. He chooses one of those Akielon shirts and then one of the lightest Veretian jackets he has. He'll deal with the warmth somehow. He takes off the trousers he's wearing, their cut looser to be more comfortable in everyday movement around camp, and dresses in those dark blue ones with a pattern running up the side of each leg.

Then it's Isander's and Lykaios's turn to work. Laurent's hair wasn't very presentable that day. He'd practised with a sword earlier and he got talked into other kinds of practice fighting, because of which he ended up being thrown down on the ground a few times. He didn't mind that. In fact, his opponent made it impossible to resent him. Younger than Damen, just as easy on the eye, Pallas was a good man, quick to smile.

Pallas had complained about being left behind, Laurent knows that. He'd wanted to go with Damianos to fight alongside him and protect him but the Prince had asked him to protect Laurent instead. There were other capable warriors out with Damen so both Pallas and Laurent (and Nikandros) didn't have to worry much about him.

He'd tried to teach Laurent hand-to-hand combat, even if Laurent refused to take off anything more than his boots. His shirt and his hair suffered the most from violent meetings with the dusty ground and now it needed to be fixed.

The two slaves are quick with their work, their fingers nimble. They understand the prince needs to look his best for foreign guests.

Laurent has no visible mark of his position. The fur collar is only his wedding gift and it marks him as Damianos's spouse. He has his stars but they're _Veretian_.

Lykaios brings him a silver chain that they weave into his hair so it passes over his forehead and disappears under the braids in the back. Holding a mirror in front of himself, Laurent looks at himself for a long time. His skin is just a shade darker now. He always _reddens_ first and even out here in these conditions he tries to avoid the sun as he can. Sun is difficult to avoid when they ride so he sometimes makes a cowl for himself out of a rectangular piece of fabric found for him by Isander. When they stop and he visits the slaves, they all always sit in the shade.

While his skin darkens, his hair brightens. Maybe it's illusion created by contrast but Laurent's pretty sure it actually becomes brighter. Now, the silver added to it makes him appear… cooler. But not cold. He doesn't feel cold, not like he used to.

He looks good. He's pleased.

He thanks Lykaios and Isander, and tells them to change, too. The keepers would have appropriate chitons for them.

On his own, he looks through his jewellery for the ear-cuff with small blue stones in it that Damen had once said would look good on him. He puts that on. He has a box of jewellery that remained after the wedding and Damen had hinted that he'd like Laurent to wear some of it but Laurent hadn't done it out of spite. Maybe he will, though, in the future.

*

When they meet again, right before they'll be welcoming Torveld officially, Laurent turns to Isander.

"This is yours." He says, pinning something to Isander's chiton on his shoulder. The younger man is speechless for just a moment, before daring to tug at the fabric to bring the pin in his line of sight.

"It is a ring, made into a pin. I have nothing else to give you."

It's his ring, or Auguste's ring, which he could not wear because of its size. He'd kept it for Auguste, never accepting to just wear it himself. He thought of wearing it once he moved to Akielon but the camp's blacksmiths couldn't work with jewellery with what they had in the field. They'd need a proper furnace. And it didn't sit well with Laurent to make the ring smaller for himself. He'd rather have it unchanged. Adding to it, like he had asked the blacksmith a few days prior, was a different thing. He didn't mind it being a pin now and he had more than one reason to do it. He'd waited, keeping the pin a secret, wondering if it was a good idea after all. That's why he had it for this occasion, not having given it to Isander earlier.

"You deserve to have it, so everyone remembers you're under my protection. And like this… I can see the Starburst whenever I want to look at it. You'd never lose it."

"I wouldn't!" Isander exclaims, even though that's just what Laurent said. "It's an honour, Exalted. I will be careful with it."

The young man touches the pin reverently.

*

Laurent sits on the half-throne chair with the other chair meant for the Patran prince in front of him. There are more chairs for Nikandros and Torveld's advisor. Laurent instructs Isander and Lykaios to be there to attend their guests' needs and to care for their comfort alongside Nikandros's two best slaves.

Inside his head, Laurent recalls everything that's current in Vere's dealings with Patras. He has no way of knowing of Akielos's dealings, not yet, not in the same detail, so he'll have to improvise. He'll have to trust what he learned in Vere.

This, at least, is familiar: Laurent welcomes Torveld the same way he would in Arles. It's taken well by the prince, who responds in Veretian as well as Damianos speaks it. Laurent doesn't think it's an insult to his current people to keep talking in Veretian. He's here to achieve a goal and he can't do that with his improving but still too basic Akielon. Nikandros will be able to understand everything, Laurent knows, and since the general doesn't look any more displeased than usual, not saying a word against the Veretian, they continue on in this way. To be honest, Laurent admires the way Nikandros can be neutrally displeased. He is a handsome man, but in an entirely different way than Damianos is.

He certainly looks the part of a responsible man of high rank, his attitude always something of a contrast to Damen's easy smiles. Since they've spent more time together, it's becoming easier for Laurent to notice his expressions.

Torveld speaks of the wedding first. He congratulates Laurent, who accepts the well-wishes with a smile. It's easy to be friendly with the prince. Laurent isn't blind to how the older man looks at him - with admiration. He looks at Laurent like he's a beautiful painting but he listens to him as well, so Laurent doesn't mind being looked at.

The conversation moves from Laurent and the wedding to the currently missing Prince and then to diplomatic matters.

It'd never have been that way for Laurent in Arles, not with the Regent's shadow over him. Laurent is in a different position here, standing in for his husband with Nikandros. He has a voice here. He hadn't expected to have it.

Nikandros may silently disapprove of Laurent's whole being, but he'd never speak a cutting word against him. He'd never undermine Laurent's words in front of others. The Akielon talks about the past deals, outlining them for Laurent's benefit but also to go over them with Torveld.

There is a quick mutual agreement to close some of the old agreements, no longer convenient for Patras nor the Clan. They keep up some of the others which have served well for a long time, even since before Damianos was the leader.

Laurent has new things in mind. Having had no time to prepare for this, having expected Damianos to be there, Laurent presents his new offers for the first time in Nikandros's presence, having no way of knowing what his reaction will be.

The Akielon must know that Laurent wouldn't do anything to harm Vere by cutting off opportunities that Torveld is travelling to Vere to discuss. But it doesn't mean Laurent can't figure out ways to shift the benefits more to the Akielon side. His new side.

Happy Akielos will mean safer Vere. Moreover, good deals made by Laurent will probably be mentioned once Torveld's caravan reaches Arles and Laurent would like nothing better than the Regent to know about them.

*

Nikandros is pleased. After they consider the talks concluded, they move on the small feast prepared in a rush during said talks, all on orders from Nikandros. They move to the prepared tables where other members of the Clan and Torveld's people can participate.

Torveld seems pleased to be able to talk with Laurent more, about other matters than politics and diplomacy. Laurent receives many compliments from him, especially after the wine was served for the third time, but Laurent isn't offended when the man is respectful enough.

Isander, Lykaios and the other two slaves serve them and the important guests. Laurent notes how intent on performing well Isander is and Lykaios the same, as if her master's absence compels her to work twice as hard to reflect well on her master.

Laurent makes sure to thank both of them and compliment their skills once they're alone. Their faces light up and Laurent isn't sure if it's his defeat that he's come to accept their roles in the Clan and his role as a master.

* *

Damen returns with his party two days later. It is night and Laurent has been in bed for some hours already. The noise wakes him when his husband isn't careful enough at the entrance of the tent. He would have woken Laurent regardless since he isn't a heavy sleeper but like this, he has a chance to shake off the fog of dreams from his head before Damen stumbles in.

He is drunk. Not very much but enough that his movements aren't as sure and purposeful as Laurent is used to seeing.

The Prince has already removed his armour and tunic before coming to the tent. He is bare-chested, though Laurent can't see much even with his eyes used to the dark. He isn't about to move to reach for the lamp.

Damen stumbles in and kneels, then lies down on his side on top of the furs. Propping himself up on his elbow, he looks at Laurent, who gazes back at him.

"I've missed your face." Damen blurts out before moving for a kiss. Laurent lets him. It's passionate from the start, not what Laurent is ready for right after waking up. Damen's right hand reaches out to his hair at the back of his head. His fingers tangle in it and he pulls at it a little to make Laurent tilt his face up.

It lasts a while, this rough kind of kiss, and Laurent's helpless to do anything but return it. He doesn't want to stop it, not quite. Maybe the circumstances are less than ideal, but… To be kissed like this, he's never experienced it before. His body, at his core, enjoys it. He knows that Damen wants him but now he _feels_ it, too.

Damen pulls back eventually and doesn't move beyond the kiss.

His hand moves to cup Laurent's cheek. "I wanted to come back to this. Someone who's waiting for me."

"Wasn't Lykaios doing just that for you?"

"Someone who'll let me know _they_ haven't been waiting for me." Damen deadpans.

"I've done nothing but wait."

"Is there nothing you've missed?" Damen asks. This time it comes out helpless.

"Come here, my barbarian husband." Laurent sighs. He points at the furs, for Damen to get under them beside Laurent.

"I've missed my furnace, warming me in the night," Laurent says, taking hold of one of Damen's hands. Their fingers lace together.

After a while, Damen lays on his back. He often sleeps like that and Laurent finds it impressive he doesn't snore at all. He counts it as a lucky sign. When Damen settles, Laurent inches closer until he's able to lay his cheek on Damen's chest. He puts his hand just below Damen's ribs. His heartbeat in Laurent's ear is steady and slowing down.

*

Laurent wakes up first this time. He'd gone to bed early and even the midnight interruption didn't make him lose rest. He would stay in the tent or near it until Damen woke if not for how restless he feels. Not in a bad way, he only feels the need to go get his horse, Stella, and ride out just to feel the wind move his hair and clothes, hit his face.

He greets Isander first, then has a very quick breakfast while instructing Isander to eat properly when he's gone. Lykaios, happy with her master's return, stays to wait at the tent until he wakes.

Laurent goes to the stables and has one of the boys get his saddle for him.

He rides out. He knows this area by now, to an extent. They've been here for longer than anywhere else and Laurent likes the calm aura of it. Even with the news of the Wild Tribes, they wouldn't actually reach these parts, which is why Damen had left for a long ride to find them.

The lands are green and rich in all one would need to grow good crops. Between that and the woods full of game, there is no chance of starvation even on a bad year.

Laurent rides until he's satisfied enough to make a stop. He chooses a stream hidden among the tall grass, clear water reflecting the sky.

He is becoming used to the shape of these lands. He sees more details now, when before it'd seemed uniform and boring. He learns how to read the landscape to guess where a stream such as this might be hidden. There are uneven parts, where it seems like the ground was raised up along a line and scarps are formed. Where these cracks are not overgrown by grass and weeds, white stones can be seen. Those stones and rocks are the base for these lands. The sight of them makes Laurent think of Ios and its white walls, pillars and cliffs it's built on.

He follows the stream until he finds the perfect place: water reaches a flat area and spreads over it, creating a small, natural pool.

Bodies of water around here have edges lined with pale stones and sometimes boulders which are convenient to sit on. The waters aren't ever muddy, unless after very heavy rains which upset the soil.

It's still early in the day and water hasn't warmed with the sun. When Laurent puts his bare feet in, it is pleasant and refreshing.

He's left for a _ride_ but he's going to sit here to be alone a while. Isander is easy company but Laurent misses the opportunities the cities gave him to find a place to truly be without any people around. It's impossible in a camp. He can sit in the royal tent and be not bothered, but how long can a person be cooped up in such a small space?

He decides to wash his hair while he's here. He undoes each braid carefully and finds some tangles made in the night. He didn't let Isander redo them during breakfast. Running his fingers through it, bowed over the stream, Laurent thinks his hair has been growing faster than it used to. He's not entirely sure what the slaves are putting into it but he never questioned it because the frizzing stopped. Mostly.

It's not very easy or convenient to be washing out dust in a shallow stream-pool, but he manages. He wrings out some water from the long strands but the rest will have to dry in the sun. Before it can happen, his shirt begins to soak it in, making his shoulders cooler.

He likes these lands, appreciates their beauty while he sits on the bank, his eyes on the horizon. Stella takes advantage of the wealth of grass around her while they're there. He understands better why Akielons live like this, trading city walls for the freedom of moving where they want to. Maybe it's the curious child inside him coming to surface once more that makes him feel this way.

He sees the rider long before he can reach Laurent's resting spot. He's following the same path Laurent took to get here from the camp – turn right before reaching the woods and then follow the stream. The black warhorse his husband's riding is in stark contrast to the lush green of the grass and the clear blue of the sky.

Both Laurent and Stella watch them come closer. Laurent doesn't stand up, letting his husband come to him.

"I thought I mind find you here," Damen says from his saddle before he jumps down with ease and comes closer to Laurent.

"Of course. And you did."

Damen glances around, his eyes stopping on the horizon sometimes.

"This is a little far from the camp for you to be... I can't say it doesn't make me uncomfortable."

"I wouldn't get lost. And I'd see the danger just as I saw you coming."

"A human, a rider, yes you would. But not the other things."

"Well, then I should be glad you found me. I'm ready to head back anyway."

He stands up, his feet trailing water when he steps onto the grass.

Damen takes him in properly, his eyes softening. He takes in Laurent's undone hair, his shirt without a vest or a jacket on top.

He has a fond expression on his face while he does so, the one Laurent is starting to accept as true part of Damen's personality.

"We have time... I could use the rest after tirelessly pursuing you."

The simple joke makes Laurent smile.

"Well then, let's sit." He doesn't put his feet back into the water, letting them dry before he'll be putting his boots on.

Damen makes himself comfortable at the bank, picking up a stone to throw it in and watch the circles it makes. He's wearing a simple tunic, nothing betraying his rank. There is only the sword with the rich handle, strapped in its sheath to Phobos's saddle as always.

When Damen looks up at Laurent, it's as if his golden hair steals all his attention, because he does not look away again.

"I've heard I have you to thank for a few new connections with Patras."

"I've told Nikandros he can take credit for it."

"And you knew very well he wouldn't."

Laurent shrugs, smiling.

"He's the one who knew what he was doing in there."

"As far as old rules go, yes. But you knew what to ask for from them and what to offer."

"I just got to use what I've learned from books a long time ago." Damen's expression is encouraging and curious, so Laurent continues. "I used to read a lot of books on geography and travellers' journals. They spoke of all kinds of riches across the region and how they are transported. Most of what I know of Akielos came from the books. But I've never seen anything like the maps you're using."

"When we reach Ios, you'll be free to browse through the grand library there."

"Will we be spending a lot of time there?"

"A week at least. I've promised mother the last time I was there to stay longer."

"Your mother," Laurent begins, "she wasn't with your old Clan when your father died?"

"No. She'd taken her position in the temple a long time before that. Father had Hypermenestra at his side until the end."

A silence falls between them, Laurent not sure what to ask regarding the two women that wouldn't be insensitive or maybe too intrusive. In the end, he asks nothing, because he doesn't care much for Hypermenestra and because he'll meet Egeria in person either way."

When one of them speaks again, it's Damen.

"You gave slaves to prince Torveld. How does that agree with your beliefs?"

Laurent smiles his private smile. It was a question he's been expecting.

"Myrrine fears battles. She fears to be out in the open all the time when an attack at night can happen any time. She always wanted to go to a city and Torveld will give her that when his caravan returns to the capital. And Timaeus, he hates the smell of horses, it makes him sick. I decided the two of them will go. They're your perfectly trained slaves, are they not? Their gratitude to the Patran prince will make them an even better gift."

Damen hums thoughtfully. Laurent knows he must have quite a few thoughts in his mind at that. Not because of the gifted slaves but because of Laurent.

"Do you know something else, my Prince?" Laurent says. "One of your best performers used to wear your brother's pin before you separated."

"No, I didn't know," Damen admits.

"He left your brother's Clan to stay with the one he loves: a younger boy in training. They spend the little free time they have to themselves with each other."

Damen watches him, his expression quite unreadable to Laurent's surprise. He wonders what Damen's thinking of this.

"The boy recites love poems and songs beautifully but he's made to memorize and practice epic war songs as well. He'd rather think of love. Did you know that?"

"No, I did not."

"I've told the keeper it's my wish that he focus on peaceful poetry from Vere and Patras, besides Akielos."

"Of course you did," Damen says neutrally.

"Don't worry, I'm not turning your precious, beautiful slaves into what you don't want them to be."

"I'm not worried about that." The Prince makes a dismissive gesture. His expression is less cloudy now.

"No?"

"They love you, my strange Veretian husband. I believe you wouldn't do anything that might hurt them." He sounds honest.

"I won't." Laurent nods. Then he asks, "Where is your brother now?"

There is a brief but noticeable pause before Damen replies.

"The opposite side of the steppes from us, I believe."

Laurent knows a lot about their father, Theomedes, mostly because the man had been an important figure in Akielos's growth and rise to power. He was a conqueror and a competent leader, so much so that he was called a King even among the separate Clans. He is why his sons are called Princes. He is gone, dead for some years now, and his sons have their own Clans.

After Theomedes's passing the people split. Damen had wanted to stick together with his older brother, maintain and grow the power their father had left them. But Kastor wouldn't have it. He'd waited for Theomedes's death hoping up until the last day that their father would name his successor. He hadn't. He'd talked of pride he had in his sons and the hopes he had for them, but he left the rest to them.

Damen had no means of stopping Kastor from making his decision into action. He couldn't have asked their people not to follow him since of course he wanted his brother to have a strong following. He could only ask _him_ not to leave.

Kastor didn't wait any longer than it took for the grand Clan's members to choose their allegiance before going on his way, leaving Damen behind with his loyal people.

This is the picture Laurent has of the events. He'd pieced it together from what he heard from the Clan members who talk with him, some from Nikandros, and the rest of it from Damen himself. Laurent supposes it'll be best to keep the two brothers apart, no matter how much Damen would like for them to meet. Even never having met Kastor, Laurent knows enough to make assumptions about his character. He particularly can't get out of his head the story he'd heard from the cooks about the day when Kastor had injured a young Damen in a practice fight. Laurent has noticed the scar and didn't think much of it, since it's to be expected a warrior would have some scars. But knowing how it came to be, Laurent's eyes stray to it sometimes when the Akielon parades shirtless.

"Do you still regret that?" Laurent asks. "Is it not better that you can't accidentally make the relations between the two of you worse?"

"I don't see why we had to separate at all. It weakened our great Clan, dividing it into two."

"'Strength in numbers' stops applying when there are two directions you want to tug the strength in. You're plenty powerful as you are now."

"Does that… please you?" Damen asks and Laurent accepts his change of topic.

"You know it does. I was born a prince, I wouldn't do well with anything less than this."

At that, Damen chuckles. "I'm sure you're more adaptable than that. Besides, I've only noticed you taking advantage of "this" by getting pies from the cooks whenever you want one."

"I like expensive clothes." Laurent lists in an overly serious tone. "I like expensive horses." He shrugs. "I like sweets."

"You only wear plain shirts," Damen notes. "You can always ask for them to be embroidered however you wish. We have more than enough blue thread from wedding gifts."

"Maybe I'll think about that."

Laurent moves to stand up first. It's time to go, he thinks, and his empty stomach agrees. He puts his boots back on and both he and Damen mount their horses.

They retrace their steps, heading back to the camp. Neither of them expects it when Stella spooks first, her panic driving her to raise on her hind legs, the sudden movement making Laurent lose balance and fall.

He shouldn't have fallen, he's better than that, but he was too relaxed talking with Damen and he just wasn't expecting his horse to do _this_.

As it turns out, his fall saved him from something worse; what spooked Stella was a lioness, coming at them from the rocky outcrop to their left. They both have passed by it on their way to the stream and back then nothing hinted at predator's presence.

Now she's here, turning herself around after missing her target the first time. Stella panics, rushing away from the threat and the lion doesn't try to catch her.

Laurent is on the ground, pushing himself up and he's a tragically easy target for anything. He draws out the dagger he's been carrying in his left boot but his reach and the length of a dagger won't stop the animal from going for his throat before it could even feel it was stabbed.

It's all a blur in Laurent's mind: Stella's escape and her fearful noises, the stomping of Damen's warhorse when he turns it around, the lioness turning to Laurent and growling as she picks up the pace to pounce-

She lets out a blood-chilling cry of pain when she's thrown down, her movements abruptly stopped by something and she falls almost at Laurent's feet, a little to his right.

The Akielon longsword that Damen favours sticks out of her back, ending her life in the next moment.

Damen is still seated on his horse, his arm outstretched after the throw. His face is… he looks scared, Laurent thinks as his body starts to work again. He's aware of the grass under his hands and the way his side hurts from hitting the ground.

His heart isn't slowing down yet, pounding in his chest. He's never seen a lion face to face before. There are wolves in Vere but this animal is so much different in how it makes Laurent feel. It was _so_ close.

"Laurent." Damianos drops his feet on the ground and in a few quick steps he's crouching by Laurent. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm… hurting." He's starting to realize it's not only his side that's bruised- when he shifts, a stab of pain runs through his right ankle.

"Let me help you up," Damen says, one of his hands going to grip Laurent's shoulder, the other wrapping around his back to support his other side. When he puts his weight on his left foot it's fine and he manages to stand up, but walking proves to be a different challenge. His ankle doesn't support him properly without putting him in a world of pain and they have to stop.

Damen helps him make it to another outcrop where the white boulders will serve as a seat for Laurent. While Laurent settles there, Damen looks around. Stella is only a white speck against the green wall of the woods at this point.

Laurent follows Damen's gaze and sighs. "I hope she'll walk back to the camp."

"I'm sure she will. I'm sorry about this. She's not a warhorse, she's meant to be fast and smart-"

"And she was. I got lucky, after the fact I can see that the lion was aiming for me."

Damen's expression darkens. "I didn't see it. I was ahead of you-" He pauses, his eyes finding the body of the lioness. "They're not supposed to hunt this far north. She looks small- I mean, young. She probably wasn't smart or experienced enough to keep to the usual territory."

"You mean to say it was a strange coincidence?"

"We were unlucky to be here when she was passing by… although it might be best I was here rather than the villagers sometime later."

"I agree. So we shouldn't expect this to repeat?"

"No, I don't believe so. I believe she either got lost or was too bold for her own good."

"Alright. Let's… let's go home." Laurent says. The initial rush of his blood is over and it leaves him feeling a little faint. On top of that, his leg hurts.

It's the first time Laurent gets to sit on Damen's stallion. It excites him, just like the time when he was a child who got to sit on a pony for the first time and then when Auguste had him sit in front of him during a parade. Careful not to bump his injured leg against the horse or Damen's leg, he's sitting behind his husband, holding onto his waist.

Laurent's attention is split between three things: the horse, his injury, and the scent of Damen when they're so close to each other and not in the tent.

This is different than when Damen holds him in the night. He always runs hot but in the sun's warmth and the middle of the day it's different. It's… more real.

 _That_ excites Laurent too. He likes it. He's known for a long time he preferred this to a woman's perfume. He prefers the leather and the sweat.

"We're almost home," Damen says when the camp is within sight as if to comfort Laurent.

When they're noticed by the people nearest to this edge of the camp calls can be heard, although Laurent can't make out the meaning.

Damen brings them steadily closer, the pace the same to make the last of the trip safe for Laurent's injury. Some of the younger boys run out to them, shouting among themselves.

It must be obvious to anyone with eyes that something is not right- the Prince returns with his husband in tow, the silver horse nowhere to be seen.

Adults join the kids who got to them first, their faces concerned but less so when they see no major injury on either of them. Still, they're followed into the heart of the camp, where Damen directs his horse. Laurent sees he means to bring him right to their tent.

Damen gets down first, reaching out to support Laurent when it's his turn to get off. Laurent gasps when Damen picks him up instead of simply helping him walk. His arms reach out almost of their own accord, wrapping around Damen's neck for fear of being dropped.

This gives the people around them a solid reason to be concerned after all.

Damen asks that the tent be opened for them and it's done immediately. Laurent holds onto him while he's carried the distance to the tent and then inside.

"Exalted!" Isander's voice is heard over the others and the slave falls to his knees at Laurent's side, his eyes wide and his face full of naked concern.

"Exalted, what do I need to do?" He asks, turning his face to Damen.

"Make him comfortable." Damen indicates the elements of their bedding. "He needs to sit still."

"Yes, Exalted." Isander raises and immediately and begins to gather pillows in a way that allows Laurent to lean back on them. Isander lays a piece of fur over them to keep the shape and tells Laurent it's done.

"Thank you."

Isander nods briefly and resumes his pillow-gathering. This time he takes two and places them where Laurent can rest his leg on them. It actually feels better to have it elevated and Laurent tries to relax, letting the pillows support him as he waits for his husband to return, probably with a medic.

Isander hovers, his face unhappy. Laurent can almost feel his need to be useful, to help more. It may be annoying to be treated like he's so fragile, but he knows better than to hurt Isander with words. The poor boy only wants him to get better. So Laurent decides to give him something to do.

"Please fetch me something to drink. It can be Agalia's honey water."

Isander nods so fast he should get a whiplash from it and he's off. He returns in time with Damen, who has Lykaios and a medic following him.

The concerned pairs of eyes on him make Laurent somewhat uncomfortable. His injury is minor in the grand scheme of things but his place in the Clan makes him too important to be left to heal alone.

He gets to have his drink first from the cup handed to him by Isander. Then he has to endure the poking of the medic's fingers over his swelling limb. It hurts and Laurent knows very well it's going to get worse before it can get better. Damen knows it too, but he still looks more worried when the medic announces he'll have to set the ankle properly.

Laurent would have liked not to have this experience. He'd gone through his whole childhood with nothing more than scraped knees and bruised arms and now he's not prepared for the pain that shoots up his whole leg when the medic puts his hands on his foot and ankle and sets it.

Laurent's fingers close tightly on Damen's arm, which was the closest thing he could grab. Damen takes his hand, patiently fighting the grip of Laurent's fingers until he can lace their fingers together and let younger prince squeeze his hand.

Laurent whimpers on exhale, waiting for the worst of it to pass. He knows he'll be sore for a while but he's not _sore_ yet. He's in _pain_.

The medic's young apprentice who was hanging back behind, a curly-haired girl, applies some sort of salve to the swollen, bruised part of the leg and then begins to wrap it in a wide and long strip of linen. At least her hands are gentle, so Laurent waits for that to be over, too.

Once his mind is not focused on his ankle, he's aware that Damen is petting his hand. Looking down, Laurent takes in the way his hand is in contrast to Damen's. Then he looks up, into those dark eyes focused solely on him. Laurent can't look away.

"I suppose we won't be leaving as planned."

"It's good that we weren't _supposed_ to be leaving today. Nothing was packed yet."

Laurent huffs.

"It doesn't matter," Damen says. "There's no set day we need to arrive in Ios on. The villagers will be pleased to have more of our coins for their meat."

"Yes, _someone_ should benefit from my fall."

"For now, don't worry about anything."

*

Before the sun starts setting, Nikandros comes to Laurent to tell him that Stella has returned and is currently being tended to by the stable boys. Laurent thanks him for the good news. Some men have been sent out earlier to skin the lion so it wouldn't go to waste and they were supposed to keep an eye out for Stella but apparently, she needed to come back on her own terms.


	5. Training

He's not pleased to be the cause of such major delay but Damen does his best to reassure him. The Akielon is more... clingy, Laurent notes. He spends much more time with Laurent during the day and he seems to be looking for any expressions of discomfort on Laurent's face because he's always ready to offer help. He offers to change his pillows or move this or that where it's convenient for Laurent to reach. Curiously, he does most of it himself rather than instructing Isander to serve him.

As for Isander and Lykaios, they're mostly relegated to fetching things, mainly food and drink for both princes. Damen leaves with Nikandros sometimes but still, the time he dedicates to watching over Laurent (needlessly) is significant.

When Laurent lets himself think about it, he guesses it is not because of his leg. Not entirely. He thinks it's because of how close the lion had been to him, and how scared Damen was because of it. He must remember that very clearly when he looks at Laurent sometimes.

The younger prince recognizes those moments by the look in Damen's eyes when they're on Laurent or the wrapped ankle. And yes, Laurent had gotten scared, too. It's silly in the middle of the camp, but if he were to ride out again, Damen's hovering would be much better received.

To distract him from fear and himself from pain, Laurent makes him talk. He asks questions about Damen's life that help him add even more pieces to the story he's collecting in his head.

He asks Damen for more stories about his mother, Egeria. It's particularly interesting to Laurent, something draws him into the topic. He wishes his own mother was alive and well. He'd lost her young and was holding on to the memories he has. He isn't envious of Damen, he is just curious. He enjoys the stories Damen has to tell about his youth, even involving Kastor.

It seems Damen enjoys telling them, too. Laurent can hear it in his voice that he loves his mother.

*

Thanks to them staying in place, the village children can still run in groups to the camp to play with the Clan's children. They are like celebrities to the villagers just thanks to the fact they're part of a major Clan with a known leader.

When Damen has the time for it, he lets the teenagers convince him to give them advice in fighting. Whenever Laurent is within sight of it, he observes Damen play with them. He's not the only adult humouring the children around, but he's the only one Laurent cares to observe.

At one point he's noticed for his wrapped-up ankle and for the way he spends a lot of time sitting. A girl a little younger than the others comes to him to ask questions. She speaks Akielon but Laurent doesn't have much trouble understanding it.

"What happened to you?"

He hesitates, not sure if it's appropriate to tell her the truth. He doesn't want to scare a child by telling her about lions nearby.

"A demon got him." A boy who followed the girl answers for him. Laurent isn't sure of the word's exact meaning but he assumes he should take it literally when spoken by a child. Especially when the girl's eyes widen when she hears it.

"I've _never_ met a demon," Laurent says quickly. "This was a lion."

That seems to work as intended because the boy demands to know the details. "You fought a lion?"

Laurent nods. "I wasn't expecting it and I didn't have a sword nor spear. So I kicked it."

Both children gasp. They seem to be delighted by it.

"I stunned it but I still didn't have a sword to kill it. Prince Damianos had to step in and help me. Then the lion was helpless." He launches into a story with many made-up details of Damen's bravery. The children soak it up.

"And that's how you hurt yourself?" Another one who joined the first two asks.

"Yes, I kicked very hard. Prince Damianos had to carry me _all_ the way to the camp. Then he returned to bring the lion back so we could have its fur. If you ask, maybe someone will show it to you."

After the children run off, the story makes rounds between the rest of the children and the teenagers, until it reaches Damen's ears as well.

"You should have told them I carried the horses, too," He tells Laurent later.

*

Laurent is allowed to ride and to walk slowly with support. The Clan is moving again, the distances they cover per day not as large as they used to before Laurent's injury. He is quite pleased with the progress but has to convince himself it's fine that they're starting late and ending the travel early each following day.

*

After even more time passes, Laurent's healing ends when _he_ decides it needs to end. He can see that Damen and their slaves will be the last people to accept that he can do everything as well and as quickly as he was doing it before. His leg wasn't broken and while it had hurt a fair bit, it didn't take long at all to heal, especially since he had no opportunity to make it worse by pushing himself. Now he's not pushing himself either, he just wants to move on with the travel and life in general. Spending half his day in the tent and the other half with someone always trailing after him like a puppy has made him irritable and he couldn't wait for it to end and he was allowed to ride. After that, he was irritated by constant reminders that he needed to take it easy on his ankle after a few hours of riding. Laurent can be patient about a lot of things and he had to be in the past, but apparently he can't be patient about this.

They're still stopping early in the day so after they're done for the day per Damen's orders, Laurent 'confronts' him about this.

"I wish to be treated as whole again, since I am. I've followed your medic's advice and your orders, and enough time has passed for me to be well."

At the first sign that he's about to be dismissed again, he pushes harder.

"I haven't felt pain for a week, Damianos. And even then I've been careful because I'm not stupid. It's time I was allowed to ride longer and do more than walk. I have been testing my leg and it works fine."

Damen looks at him for long enough that Laurent starts growing confused about what he's thinking.

"Come prove it to me." The Prince says.

"How?"

"With a sword."

"Against you?"

"Yes. We haven't trained together before."

It is true, Laurent usually ended up going against Pallas. For one: he was a skilled warrior, which made him a good training partner, and second: he was a good man, fair and polite.

There were several reasons why Laurent trained with others but not his own husband. That he is his husband is one of those reasons. And somehow the thought of going against the Akielon Prince, no matter that it's just training, makes Laurent vaguely uncomfortable. He hasn't forgotten the times when he'd been deeply grieving his brother once it was officially declared he is dead. Laurent had raged then, vowing that he'd become as good as Auguste – no, better – and he'd avenge him by killing Akielons responsible for it.

But he'd grown more and calmed down, and realized Akielos was not really ruled by people thinking the same. That there were respectable Clans and vicious Clans. That he'd probably never even find out who was responsible for the destruction of Auguste's unit that day. At least he knows it's not Damen and it had to be enough for Laurent. In fact, it made Damen tolerable since he spoke of Laurent's brother with respect.

All those memories of a dark time when Laurent wielded his sword, a little too heavy for the teenager he'd been, make it difficult for him to just go in the ring and face the Prince.

But. A lot of time has passed since then. Yes, Laurent will never forget it but he's grown in many ways. And a lot of time has passed since he was married to Damen. And maybe he wants to try.

Laurent smirks. He looks Damen up and down, like he's judging if he's a worthy opponent.

Damen's eyebrows rise.

"Let's do it." Laurent says lightly and then Damen smiles too. Laurent is distracted by it, the way one cheek acquires a dimple that he wants to touch.

Of course the moment the others notice they intend to fight, the word goes out. It's not good to focus on the audience more than on his target so Laurent tunes out their surroundings, his mind only on not losing _too_ fast. He knows he cannot compete against Damen. 'Legends' told about Damianos would have him believe the man was born with a sword and while that's ridiculous, Laurent is aware he was a warrior since the moment he could properly handle a weapon. The image of the lion killed by a flying sword lingers in Laurent's mind.

Laurent can be confident in himself lasting a round, maybe more if he doesn't fight as _clean_ as Akielons do. Mostly, however, he wants Damen to see that he's more than a pleasant face and a mind. He wants Damen not to think him breakable.

When they start, Damen moves like in training- that is, he begins with classic moves, classic attacks that Laurent is now well familiar with. He responds in kind: classic blocks and evasions, Akielon style. They both are trying to get a feel for the other before they become more serious. Damen's grinning after the first successful blocks by Laurent.

After Laurent carries out the first attack, Damen starts putting more strength behind his blows. It forces Laurent to make smarter moves, be better at evading and parring. The Veretian prince has two styles to use: Veretian and Akielon that he learned from Pallas and others. When fighting with them, he always wanted to learn so he didn't use what he'd already learned in Vere against them.

Now, however, he does. If he's trying to impress Damen, he needs to use all that he has in his favour. He's quite pleased when Damen stops being so… cheerful about fighting Laurent and has to concentrate on their movements.

It's fun. Laurent can admit that to himself. His muscles are aching from exertion but he welcomes the feeling. The time spent recuperating from his fall set him back a little in training but that set back is nothing compared to what his uncle had by forbidding him from learning swordfight. Laurent never wants to be _weak_ again, he never wants to be less than what he can be. He won't allow it to happen.

With Damen… well, Laurent lets himself believe he'll never have to be afraid of this happening again.

Inside the ring, his husband is trying to trip him up. Laurent guesses that's what Damen is doing, using moves more tricky than the usual. But Laurent is trickier. Damen's advantage is strength and stamina and while Laurent's own stamina is decent, he can't rely on strength. He relies on his quick thinking and willingness to not be as honourable as Damen.

He takes a hit from Damen – that's going to bruise – and he staggers back, letting the Akielon believe he now has him. But he doesn't. Laurent surprises him when it's clear he didn't, in fact, lose his balance and rushes forward, managing to trip him.

Falling, it's a choice to hold onto his sword or let it go, using his arms instead to catch himself. The sword drops into the dirt. Damen doesn't actually _fall_. When he fails to regain balance, he drops to one knee, right hand on the ground for stability. By then, Laurent already has his sword pointed at him, holding it while standing tall. He's breathing hard but he's smiling.

There's some clapping from the sidelines but mostly various shouts, laughing and cheering.

Damen shakes his head, then pushes himself up to stand. Laurent takes a step back, lowers his sword and when one of the boys runs in to pick up the sword from the ground, he hands his over too.

Damen comes close to him, a grin on his face once more. He's not nearly as tired as Laurent is, but a layer of sweat covers his skin and some sand sticks to it. Laurent knows he must be as dirty but he doesn't care much.

"You've won," Damen says.

"What's my reward?"

"I thought it was to prove you're well healed."

" _Am_ I?"

"I believe you're very well."

Laurent nods, pleased. They're standing, neither willing to be the first to break the moment.

"You are the Prince," Laurent says. "Surely you can afford to give more than that."

"Then say your desire."

"I want a kiss. I hear it is customary that the winner receives a kiss."

"It is. I shouldn't ignore the tradition."

Laurent tilts his face up to receive it. He knows very well his cheeks are hot from this simple conversation but at least it'll be covered by the flush from the fight.

There is more cheering and some lewd shouts when Damen cups his cheek and closed the distance between their lips. Even though Laurent is the one who won, it's Damen who deepens the kiss, demanding more from it. Laurent matches his demand.

His whole body is hot with it. Not just sexual desire but some kind of exhilaration, a rush of blood, of power, of… he doesn't know what it is but he doesn't want it to go away.

When the kiss ends, Damen keeps touching his face, his fingers petting his skin.

They have to go somewhere else, eventually, if only to free up the ring for others to use it.

"If he fucks like he fights, I'm jealous again." Laurent hears someone say while they're walking away. He holds Damen's hand tighter so that his husband doesn't turn around to give whoever spoke up his piece of mind.

*

"We'll be meeting with Makedon soon." Nikandros says while they're having their midday meal together. Laurent, Damen, Nikandros and their three slaves who serve them.

Damen nods. "We're still waiting on a message but it should be before the month ends."

"Unless he delays even more than that hunting the Wild Tribes."

"That is possible too."

By now Laurent knows that Makedon in a great general, not of Prince status but the respect he has was built on his own merit. He is known to be fond of battles, though not _within_ Akielos. He's eager to remove whatever threats there are against Akielos and its territory. Laurent's certain his Clan is one of the several Vere had had to defend against. Even in the times of Theomedes's reign, Makedon preferred to have his separate Clan and was well respected by both the King and lesser Clans.

He might not be pleased with Damianos's choice of bride. Damen's apparently happy to ignore it but Nikandros is more serious about this. For now, the conversation shifts more to the Tribes, who are still a problem. They have not gone back to what is considered their territories or dispersed during the past weeks. It seemed like that, but they still attack villages and merchants and messages of destruction keep arriving.

There was a messenger from Vask three days ago, bringing Damen an invitation to come discuss the problem and other matters. Not to Vask itself, of course, as that would be too big of a detour, but to a designated meeting point. That reminds Laurent of the half-Vaskian boys in their camp and of what is involved in meeting with the warrior women.

"Do you think we should treat the issue seriously?" Laurent asks.

"By pursuing them? I am starting to consider it."

"Do not look at me like that," Laurent says. "It's for you to decide."

"But it will delay our arrival in Ios even more."

"It doesn't matter to me." Laurent tells him. "I'll see it when I see it. There's no reason why we should rush, except fulfilling your customs."

Damen nods, expression serious.

"I'd like for the lands to be safe. We're at the heart of Akielos and merchants travelling in all directions are affected by the attacks. I'd rather they stopped."

"If we assume Makedon will be late, we might be too. It's nothing we can't schedule by messengers." Laurent adds.

"Do you need me to assemble a new unit? Or two." Nikandros asks Damen.

"Two, I think. Twenty men each."

Nikandros glances at Laurent, then back at Damen.

"Who do you want to stay in camp?"

The discussion continues after that between the Prince and the general, Laurent quietly eating the sweets Isander has brought him for after the dinner. He's thinking about this incoming meeting of Clans. While Damen's people have accepted him – or simply accepted his presence – it might be different when a new proud Akielon meets him. Laurent has no wish to make Damen look bad- although, to think of it, it is not his fault and he's not the cause for Damen having a Veretian spouse. It is all Damen's choice and it shouldn't be Laurent who needs to worry about it.

Isander notices the change in Laurent's posture and in his mood. "Exalted," he says softly. "Are you feeling well?"

"Yes. I'm just fine. I think I want to take a walk." He says out loud.

"Of course. I will speak with you later." Damen says before returning to the conversation with Nikandros.

Isander stands up to follow Laurent.

* *

In the late evening, when they're both in the tent after sunset, Damen and Laurent talk about this more.

"Do you wish to join us?" Damen asks him. He's sitting opposite Laurent, cross-legged while Laurent's leaning on his pillows. In his lap he's holding a wristguard of his that needs adjustments to the straps. Laurent is holding a book that he tried to read but had to give up with the tent's poor light from the lantern.

"In the hunt?"

"Yes, to see how we fight." He hesitates. "Or to participate."

"I know you don't want me to participate," Laurent says.

"I do not like the image of you in the middle of everything, no."

"I don't plan on insisting to go. The last thing I'd like to be is a distraction for you."

"For me?"

"What you just said- you'd worry about me. You'd watch me instead of the enemy. Don't worry, I don't _want_ to come. I'm… not fond of this- of battles and of war." A rueful smile shows on his lips. "I was never supposed to be near it… Auguste was going to be the king, the golden warrior. He promised to make me his advisor, his support anywhere but in actual battle. He'd wanted me to learn to hold a sword and he'd practised with me… promised to teach me more. But that was in our castle, just practice. Then… I learned because I had to, not because I wanted to."

Damen's hand reaches out to cover Laurent's. "We would have gotten along well, I think. Your brother and I."

"I'm not sure I could handle the two of you together. The posturing would never end."

Neither wishes to continue the painful topic, both of them quiet with their own thoughts for a minute.

"May I?" Damen asks, gesturing at Laurent's head.

Laurent blinks, then says, "Yes." He hasn't changed into the nightshirt yet and hasn't done anything about his hair after undoing the braids himself sometime earlier.

Damen moves closer to sit at his side where the piled up pillows allow. His hands touch Laurent's hair on the sides of his head. Damen runs his fingers through it, down to the ends. There are no tangles in it, not after Laurent brushed it thoroughly.

"Oh." Laurent whispers when those hands come back up and touch the skin of his head. It feels very nice to have his head massaged like this. Damen's fingers press up, pulling his hair as they go but stopping before he can cause pain. He rubs circles into Laurent's head, slow but sure, and Laurent lets himself relax. His shoulders drop.

Damen chuckles softly. He begins moving his fingers down until he reaches the back of Laurent's neck. Once he presses harder there and lower, the younger prince groans. He shifts to sit up straighter so Damen can reach both his shoulders comfortably.

"I should have done this sooner," Damen tells him. "You're very tense, even when you're lounging." He pauses and Laurent can't see that he's frowning. "In fact, Isander should have done this for you."

Laurent shrugs, moving Damen's hands which rest on his shoulders. "He does too much already."

He doesn't elaborate that what Isander (and the others) do for his hair and clothes is one thing, while something like a massage is another. He doesn't say that it feels… _right_ accepting this from his husband but wouldn't have been the same from a slave, no matter how eager one.

Laurent nearly lets out a curse when Damen presses hard on a particularly painful spot. A spot that _wasn't_ painful until Damen touched it. Damen doesn't back off, instead offering an apology and a change of pressure and pace.

After a while, it all feels good again. Laurent's about ready to melt, lulled into a pleasant state by the repetitiveness of Damen's touch and the warmth of his hands.

A kiss to his shoulder signals the end of the massage. Damen pushed his collar out of the way during the massage and now a little more to kiss the bare skin. Laurent turns his head to look at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Thank you."

"I'm willing to offer this service to you more often."

"I will keep that in mind."

When they go to sleep, the space between their bodies is very small.


	6. Stray Veretians

He's woken up with kisses. A trail of them on his brow, his eyelid, his nose. When his nose scrunches up the kisses go away and he hears an amused sound instead. He opens his eyes.

His husband is sitting up, gazing down at him. Laurent rolls from his back onto his side and hugs the pillow closer.

"Why are you not rested yet?" Damen runs his hand through Laurent's hair gently. "I did not have any occasion to wear you out last night."

Laurent huffs into the pillow. "I'm not feeling rested, that is the reason."

"We're going to have rain today," Damen says.

"There you have it," Laurent grumbles into the pillow.

"You're free to ride in a covered wagon if you wish."

"Can I sleep in it?"

A chuckle. "You can do anything you like, love." Damen's standing up, leaving Laurent in the cocoon of furs. "I'll have Isander _and_ Lykaios tend to you today."

When he leaves the tent, Laurent groans into the pillow. _'Love'_ , he'd called him.

*

The rain starts right after they set out. Laurent tries to brave it on Stella but he does, after all, leave Damen's side and finds a suitable wagon to ride in. He could choose the slaves but he thinks he's spent enough time with them recently. He should be spending more time among free Akielons for the sake of his image and for his own knowledge of them. His choice is made for him when someone calls him from one of the wagons he's passing while moving against the flow of the caravan.

They're young women, his age and older, who he usually sees riding their own horses either in groups or with their brothers or husbands. It seems they have the same opinion of the rain as he does. The men leading the wagon stop it so that the prince can enter it. First, he tethers Stella to the wagon and then he quickly slips behind the canvas so that no drops get inside with him. His jacket is soaked so he takes that off and folds it up to be put aside.

Two women to his right are pregnant, though not yet heavily. They're entitled to wagon rides, and their friends are happily taking advantage of it.

These friends have wine. They share that fact with Laurent by offering him a cup of it and he accepts, wondering how many bottles and cups to give out they have hidden among pillows and shawls. He thought of declining first but then, why not? He won't be doing anything productive today, anyway. He's too sleepy for it.

They ask him many things. They ask many questions about Damen in the name of gossip and eventually he finds himself in an uncomfortable spot, deflecting some of the questions pertaining to his sex life. Which he does not have. It doesn't matter what Damen thinks of it, Laurent will not let the truth get out for his sake.

He manages to do that, the wine at least helping him keep mostly collected. It'd be foolish to try to make anything up so he doesn't do that, but he manages to slip a few compliments for his husband into his deflection.

Being cryptic seems to be acceptable because the women grin and exchange meaningful looks with each other. Laurent is reminded that even if none of the present here have done it, they may have sisters or cousins who'd lain with his husband before.

He's saved, thankfully, from having to think on this any further when they start to gossip about their own husbands, or brothers, their talkativeness fuelled by the wine. It's a decent source of knowledge for Laurent, though he's not sure what he would do with it. He settles to listen because even if he'll forget most of this by tomorrow, he'll at least have improved his grasp of spoken Akielon.

*

The rain stops before dusk and Laurent thinks he won't have to see it soon but it is there again the following morning. Laurent wakes to the noise of water hitting the tent's roof and he sighs. It's very early still. Not black anymore, but it's grey inside the tent and Damen is still very much asleep.

Laurent pushes himself up on his hands so that he can scoot over, closer to the source of warmth: his husband. Lying back down he curls up, his head on Damen's chest.

He's soothed back to sleep by the steady strong heartbeat in his ear.

*

Curiously, after the rains pass the air is hotter. At first, Laurent thinks it's an illusion that his body's experiencing after the change, but no. It is hotter and the Akielons confirm it for him. It's not only that they're constantly moving south, but the weather is also changing with the season.

Having no other choice, Laurent puts away the last of his Veretian shirts to the bottom of the chest and only wears Akielon fabrics now. He still keeps his long trousers, as they're not that much of inconvenience yet and he likes them. He asks for his hair to be tied up higher than usual and the slaves comply with the request, making it more bearable for Laurent to be in the sun when there's no pleasant wind to be felt, though they also take the opportunity to make the braids and knots more elaborate. Whenever his hair is done at the slave quarters, Isander brings with them jewellery that Laurent doesn't really think or remember about. Laurent suspects Damen has told Isander to use more of it because before this Isander would ask or wait for Laurent's instructions to use it.

The weather, of course, is nothing to the Akielons or the Wild Tribes so the initial plans to go after them are eventually carried out.

It goes like it did before when Damen had left before Torveld's visit. It lasts much shorter, however, with the unit returning after two days with news of success and bringing new horses and items with them.

"I should put more effort into learning," Laurent says when they have a quiet moment with Damen. "About looking after the camp, so that you don't have to go without your general."

Damen lowers the piece of parchment he'd received a letter on. He looks at Laurent.

"Nikandros doesn't stay behind because there's no one else to lead if I'm gone. He watches after everything because if I can't do it myself, then I want the one I trust the most to do it for me. Now I have even more to guard," he says.

"How about you send him out next time and you stay?" Laurent asks, half-joking.

"It can be done." Damen looks amused. "Do you want me to stay?"

"Only if Nikandros wants to go. I have no wish to give him more reason to dislike me."

"I don't believe he dislikes you. I've seen the two of you talk, there's nothing of hostility to be seen."

"He doesn't love me, that's certain. He _tolerates_ me." He's not complaining, he doesn't mean to. He sometimes likes to bring this up to tease and Damen must be aware of this.

"He needs time to see who you are."

Laurent tilts his head, looking at Damen. "How lucky I am that you've seen it right away."

Damen puts the letter away completely, then says, "You won't ever let that go, will you?"

"No. Perhaps Nikandros and I should go, you stay to mind the camp?"

Damen gives a startled chuckle. "Now you're trying to give me nightmares."

"Maybe I'm thinking ahead, being progressive."

"Ah. I see." Damen says lightly. "That's the plan?"

"What plan do you think it is?" Laurent asks, corner of his mouth rising even though he's trying to hold it back.

"Well, yours to overthrow me, take over the rule."

Laurent's eyebrows rise. "How would I rule while being away from the camp?"

"Away, yes. But with Nikandros, plotting."

"Indeed. Me and Nikandros, the future leaders of this Clan. Do you suppose he'll be as efficient keeping me warm in the night?"

"Now you're upsetting me with the vision."

"My apologies. What visions would you find agreeable? Or do you have your own?"

"Maybe I do."

"Then share," Laurent says confidently even if at the back of his mind his chastising himself for asking. He's not sure he's ready to hear an honest reply to that.

Damen watches him, thinking. Then, he speaks. "I've given some thought to one thing, wondering how it could be… but it's in the past and can't happen now."

Curious now, Laurent isn't willing to not know what Damen is thinking. He doesn't ask, however. He waits. He hopes what his face is showing is encouragement. It must be enough because Damen continues.

"I regret that your brother wasn't alive and that it wasn't him who'd talked with me of our marriage."

That gets Laurent's full attention.

"He would have made you come to see us personally first."

Damen nods. "I've made a mistake. I was so… I was surprised and happy that it turned out to be so straightforward to be able to…" He hesitates.

"To have me." Laurent offers helpfully.

Damen nods again. "I had thought you wanted it too, I didn't consider everything clearly. If I could, I would have done it differently. Courted you, as you deserve to be courted. I would have learned about you, to know your likes and dislikes. Aside from horses. All that I can give you now, I would have tried to gift you with _before_. Until you'd tell me that you wanted the same thing I did."

"So that is your fantasy," Laurent says carefully. "To court me."

"It is."

"I- well, I do appreciate it. It sounds… sweet."

Damen's face brightens. "I'm glad you say so."

Laurent looks at his feet, his thoughts swirling in his head. While he fantasised of other things, _carnal_ things, his husband was imagining them meeting in different circumstances than they had met in. While Laurent's dreams became fuelled by his awakening _need_ for his husband's touch and while he'd believed it was the same for Damen, Damen was dreaming of giving him gifts and asking Auguste for Laurent's hand in person.

"I'm sure it was easy for you to think I wanted you," Laurent says, going back to Damen's previous words just to distract himself from his current thoughts. He uses the opportunity to tease him. "Your whole camp wants you, after all. _Don't_. Don't deny it. You know it and you like it."

"Why wouldn't I?" Damen replies after a pause during which he must be wondering what Laurent wants to hear.

"I suppose you might be right to think so." Laurent shrugs. "Some of it is deserved."

"Oh. Can I count on you pointing out _undeserved_ admiration I receive for the years to come?" Damen asks, amusement replacing the uncertainty.

"Of course. I'll be there for you." Laurent waves his hand at the matter as if there couldn't be anything more easy to do.

When he glances up at Damen's face, he finds a smile growing, bright and happy. He doesn't stop himself from returning it.

A little later, he says, "I was considering going with you. Once. To see." He means the rides to find the Wild Tribes.

"You're free to join us." Damen says honestly. "It'll probably be good for you to see us fight, regardless of my feelings on your presence there and what I've said before."

Laurent nods decisively. "Tell me when to be ready."

* *

They ride across clear remains of a battle sooner than they expected to. There are several dead bodies and one dead horse, as well as remains of a bonfire. The bodies are of the Wild people and someone else, someone they'd attacked. Those dead men wear Veretian clothes. There are no weapons left by their bodies to confirm they're of Veretian make, too, but it's to be expected that valuable items, especially swords, would be gone.

Laurent doesn't have an answer as to what they were doing here. There is the possibility of it being a merchant caravan but if that was the case then the field would look differently. If the caravan was weak, there would be more remains of it. If it had strong guards, there would be more dead Wild people. So he doesn't really believe it was a caravan.

"We will try to track them," Damen says behind Laurent, who's taking a closer look at one of the dead. Laurent turns to Damen and nods.

They follow the hoof prints, easy to follow because of the ground softened by rains. They ride past some groves of typical southern trees dotting the steppe before they spot human silhouettes and horses.

The fighting is going on between the two groups and it is clear who has the advantage- there are only a few Veretians remaining, with the Wild warriors coming at them viciously.

Damen gives a sign to join in and they ride straight between them. They weren't unexpected. The two battling parties were too focused on each other to notice the new arrivals until they're too close to be stopped. The Akielon warriors easily take out a few nearest Wildlings right away, pushing the rest back.

Laurent hangs back, leading Stella to the right where the remaining Veretians are. He means to keep an eye on them, should they decide to attack the Akielons. He can't trust them only by virtue of them being from the same country.

There is only a handful of them now. Laurent comes closer when he notices that one of those who appeared fallen is alive and one of the still standing sees that too. The man jumps from his horse now that the immediate threat is occupied by the Akielons and goes to kneel by the downed man.

Laurent decides to follow. He leaves Stella behind and as he comes closer, he notices that the kneeling man is Orlant. Thinking his eyes are deceiving him, Laurent doesn't speak as he comes to a stop behind him. He is now certain he's looking at Orlant's back but the dying man on the ground is a stranger. His wound is too large, too serious to be fixed. Especially not out here.

Staying silent, Laurent listens to Orlant giving reassurances to the man. They all know he's going to die soon.

Laurent turns towards the group. Cries and shouts, and steel hitting steel fill the air. Damen isn't in the thick of it, instead staying back, watching for any runaways. He's looking out for Laurent so that he's not attacked while alone.

Two other warriors are keeping near the Prince, their attention split between the Wildlings and the Veretians. With twenty warriors, there truly is no need to have everyone fight. It is already won, only a matter of time for the others to realise this.

The remaining Veretians know that too.

Laurent's blood runs cold when one of them makes a decision to attack. He cries out a warning but it's not really needed. Aktis, who is one of the two warriors beside Damen, already sees what's happening. He's one of the best spear throwers in the unit and he puts his skill to use before the other man can get anywhere close to him or Damen.

Laurent, with his heart in his throat, looks at the other men. He didn't even have the time to look at their faces after he found it was Orlant there.

One of the remaining men is an unfamiliar face to him. What is familiar about him, though, is the colour of Regency on his shoulders and in the ribbons at his horse's reins. The one at his side is Jord. Neither of them moves, their eyes now on their dead company after the attack. They do not move against the Akielons. Quite the opposite- the unfamiliar man raises his hands, clearly not holding any weapon, after sheathing it by the saddle. Jord follows suit and Laurent breathes a little easier.

But the Akielons are angry. Aktis and Pallas are already between Damen and the Veretians, ready to strike even if there are no more hostile attempts or signs from them. As for Damen himself, he looks at Laurent. His eyes find Laurent's and there are emotions behind them that aren't easy for Laurent to understand at the moment.

Then Damen's eyes move to a point behind Laurent.

Laurent turns to see what Orlant is doing, to make sure he doesn't unintentionally provoke the Akielons. Thankfully, he's being calm. He's still crouching by the dying man but he's turned towards the battlefield and he raises his hands slowly enough, to show no weapons. He stands up.

Laurent's heart is pounding. _What_ are they doing so far in Akielos? Who ordered them to go, why?

At the same time, the Akielons must be asking themselves the same questions and they're already not happy. Laurent walks over to Damen, who remains on his horse. He looks at Laurent. "These are your men, aren't they? These two."

If Damen remembered them, then there will be others in the camp who saw them at the wedding and will remember that too. How is that going to make Laurent look?

"Yes. Please hold yours back." He pleads. "There won't be any more fighting."

"You're so certain? You didn't even know they'd be here so you don't know what they're doing."

"I trust them with my life and I'll vouch for them. They won't do anything to put me in danger."

Damen doesn't answer immediately, not to Laurent and not to give orders. He looks between Laurent and the other men.

One of the high ranking warriors speaks first, in Akielon. "Then keep them but kill the one wearing the colours."

Some of the others agree with him.

If they kill the one, Laurent will still feel like he failed. The man who'd attacked first is a different matter and Laurent regrets it happened but it was the man's own fault for acting rashly. Laurent can't let the Akielons execute anyone else who isn't aggressive. And if the man was killed, he could not look Jord and Orlant in the eyes afterwards. It'd ruin the trust between them, at least in his own heart.

"What have you travelled so far for?" Damen asks them at last.

"Not to fight you," Jord replies immediately.

"Will you believe us if we say we're lost?" The man beside him asks.

Damen isn't amused but Laurent hopes he'll be patient.

"You are indeed if you kept following the sun instead of going against it to find your borders."

"We were part of an escort for a noble. Only by accident and bad luck we were separated after being sent out to scout. No one was expecting to see anything but grass for the weeks we were here but," he makes a wide gesture at the fallen Wild warriors. "We've been attacked and unprepared for it."

"We weren't supposed to be here, either." Laurent thinks out loud. "We were delayed three times. The noble, do you suppose they returned safely?"

"Likely. We have no way of finding them now unless they retraced the route we took originally and are waiting. But we're too lost to reach that point."

"Why you?" Laurent asks Jord. "Why are you in this position?"

"We were ordered to be part of the escort and then we were ordered to be in the patrol ahead."

Laurent's eyes narrow. "Both you and Orlant or did you suggest going together?"

"By orders."

"What about you?" He addresses the unfamiliar man in his uncle's colours. "Were your orders to make _sure_ they do not return?"

The man opens his mouth but there is a pause before he speaks, like the situation is just starting to come together in his mind. "I wouldn't do that if I was paid my weight in jewels." Then, "Maybe I would if I didn't like them."

"You realise that you – and them – were put in this position, where you would not be missed?" Damen asks. He caught up with what Laurent is thinking.

Jord is looking at the ground, resigned. He's nowhere near as surprised as the other Veretian is. Orlant seems to have a harder time accepting it.

"I thought they were only giving us the hard, boring work. Sending us to sweat under the sun."

"Is 'they' my uncle?"

"Yes."

"We'll take them to camp, I want more questions answered," Damen announces, no room for protests. "Aktis, take however many men of those present you want, check the area for more unexpected visitors. Return when you decide it's safe."

That, at least, appeases the other warriors somewhat. They split so some follow the Prince back to camp and some follow Aktis to patrol the lands around them.

They take the surviving Veretian horses with them and the few horses the Wild people had. As for the rest of items, they'll send a different team from the camp to gather them.

Jord and the other Veretian never got off their horses and Orlant is allowed to mount his. They're watched intensely by the Akielon warriors as they make their way back. Laurent is riding beside Damen, not ready to speak with the Veretians. It wouldn't look good, either, if he tried to talk to them at the moment. The suspicious Akielons wouldn't like it.

He needs time to process this, the sudden reappearance of his most trusted guards. He's happy to see them, certainly, but he's not happy about the circumstances.

Damen is quiet with his own thoughts until he decides to ask if Laurent is feeling fine. He is, physically, but in his heart... he's just sad. He didn't want more problems to find him in his new life.

After reaching the camp, Damen instructs Pallas and two other men to take the Veretians to the tent where they hold meetings before each major decision. Usually, it's Nikandros who resides there during the day. They're allowed to sit and someone brings water in but other than that they're under guard and speaking is frowned upon.

Damen takes Laurent aside after they inform Nikandros of the issue.

"We're not going to execute them, not after we've brought them in. Unless they're foolish enough to provoke us."

"They won't."

"You don't know the one man. We haven't even asked his name yet."

"But we will. I'm going to bet that he was just a mercenary up until not long ago. I bet he barely saw Arles before being used by my uncle. He won't be trying to get himself killed this foolishly."

"Does the Regent… hate you?"

"He was getting rid of all that is mine even before you came to marry me. He took the last of it during the wedding."

"He's the reason they didn't come with you."

Laurent nods. "And now he found the use for them to cause trouble in your lands. Whatever would happen to them here, he'd twist it in his favour, I'm sure. And whatever happens to them, it'll make me look suspicious."

"It doesn't change anything for me. I know you and I only care about you."

"But not everyone is so impressed by my person. Your warriors weren't pleased, out there."

"And I understand them but they will have to understand, too, that if what we suspect is true, the Veretians are not our enemy." Damen sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. "I see we will have to talk about the Regent since I clearly don't know what I should know."

"We will," Laurent replies quietly.

Nikandros is glowering when they enter the tent. His arms are crossed on his chest and he's once again the embodiment of silent displeasure.

Laurent deflates even more. They've just had that talk about _not_ making Nikandros unhappy.

When they walk inside, Laurent following Damen, everyone already present in the tent straightens up, all attention on them. Damen takes a seat behind the table and Laurent sits beside him. Only then does Nikandros speak.

"Am I to assume these three won't be sent back to where they belong?"

"Not on their own, no," Damen answers him.

"May I know why it's better to keep them?"

"Not offending their skills, them dying on the way back would achieve what they've been sent here for in the first place," Damen replies.

His words manage to bring an expression of confusion to Nikandros's face.

"They've been sent out on a suicide mission." Damen sighs.

At that, Nikandros frowns. "What is so important about them?"

"It's to spite me," Laurent answers him this time. "And to punish them for associating with me over the Regency."

"Since when are you not… part of it?" Nikandros asks, understandably confused.

"Ever since I was the heir."

"Then it's safe to say your uncle doesn't have any love for you?"

"He never did. He only loves power. I don't know if he'd thought of this before or if news of what we got in deals from Patras made him do it. Maybe it's my fault I angered him more. There's nothing I can do now. The best I- _we_ can do is give them shelter here."

"If it can make anything easier, only bring us to a city." The third Veretian offers. "Anywhere foreigners do not stand out as we did in the middle of the steppe. We'll be as good as gone."

Laurent is inclined to believe he'd be capable of taking care of himself there.

"Even if we wanted to do that, they're still going to be here by the time Makedon meets us." Nikandros points out, looking at Damen.

"For now, there's only one solution I can see," Damen says. "You'll swear your loyalty to prince Laurent and you'll swear not to run. You can't have your weapons back. I suggest that you don't let yourselves be provoked by words because if you're found in a fight with one of our people, I won't be looking at them to blame."

Laurent's fingers clench on the chair's armrest. This is probably the best solution but he can't guess their answer to it.

"I've given prince Laurent my oath years ago," Jord says. "I'll be happy to do it again in front of you as many times as you ask and so will Orlant."

All eyes turn to the third one.

"What is your name?" Damen asks him.

"Lazar. I don't believe my family name will mean anything." He replies and then looks at Laurent. "I'm certainly not going to pretend I'm attached to the Regent. Especially considering what I've learned today, which I choose to believe is the truth. While I would like to have a little more time than this to decide I want to follow another royal… I'll do it. Maybe I'll even mean it."

Neither Damen nor Nikandros are impressed and Laurent doesn't know this man to vouch for him like he can for his men but he hopes he has good enough survival instinct not to do something stupid.

Damen looks at Laurent. "Is this acceptable to you?"

"Of course. Thank you."

Damen's gaze softens. "We'll talk in a moment when we're alone." To the guards, he says, "Find them a spare tent and set it up for tonight. Watch them until the evening meal."

The men acknowledge the order and the three Veretians calmly let themselves be led out.

Laurent slumps in the chair.

"It's not an insurmountable issue," Damen says, kindness colouring his voice. "We'll deal with Makedon when we meet him and until then we can manage housing three more men." He adds lightly, though it doesn't help the overall mood.

Nikandros holds back what he wants to say, for once concerned for Laurent. Yes, he's irritated and not looking forward to general Makedon finding even more Veretians among Damen's clan but his are practical concerns. Laurent… looks like it hit him where it was already hurting.

Although he has little information about Laurent's life, Nikandros is starting to understand it wasn't what everyone believed it to be. Going further, he begins to suspect the marriage also wasn't what everyone believed it to be.

He already believes that the marriage was not consummated. There's no proof of it and he's only assuming based on observing his Prince and _friend_ and how he speaks of Laurent. There's much more reservation in him when talking about Laurent in comparison with how he used to talk about his past conquests. It's true there's a big difference there, first that it's his husband and as such deserves more respect, and in the past, Damen would usually keep his lover's name to himself (if he even knew it).

He remembers the day after the wedding he'd found it a little odd that Damen wasn't quick to respond to teasing and lewd jokes from the men.

But that isn't Nikandros's business. If he had reason to suspect there was anything _wrong_ with Laurent, that he was stringing Damen on, that he was suspicious (more than any Veretian is), he'd have approached Damen about this.

As time has passed, he wasn't blind to the way the two princes enjoyed each other's company. So whatever is private between them, it can't be bad. Which is why Nikandros now excuses himself from the tent, saying he'll give more instructions regarding the Veretians to other members of the Clan. Damen simply nods.

When Nikandros leaves, Laurent stands up. "I'll go find Isander."

Damen stands, too, and follows him before he can get four steps towards the exit of the tent. "Wait, please." He holds Laurent's arm to gently pull him to turn around. Once he does, Damen pulls him into his arms. Surprised, Laurent tenses at first but very quickly he leans into Damen's body. His own arms come up, fingers gripping fistfuls of Damen's tunic.

"Don't worry so much. You look like you haven't slept for days, even though the day had started well…"

"I know, I'm sorry. I… it's not just this, finding Jord and Orlant like this. I'm reminded of _everything_ and I wasn't prepared for it, and it's all clouding my thoughts." Words rush out, so unlike the usual way Laurent speaks.

"You weren't expecting it, no one was. As I said, it's not as big a problem for us as it may seem. You trust your men and the third one will either prove his worth it too or he'll get himself killed, and that won't be on you."

"But if he does provoke your men they won't look kindly at mine anymore."

"Then let's assume he is not stupid. Don't think about the worst, love."

Laurent breathes in deeply, Damen's scent calming him. His fingers unclench and he wraps his arms around Damen instead. Damen's hand moves up, brushing along Laurent's shirt until it cups the back of Laurent's head.

* *

Later, when Laurent is eating in Isander's company, the younger man asks him about the newcomers. It pleases Laurent that over the weeks they've spent together Isander has learned to speak 'out of turn' to Laurent.

The prince explains who the men are and how they were found. Isander asks why it makes him sad to have them here and Laurent sighs.

"I'm not sad. My husband has already told me I worry too much."

At that, Isander nods seriously. "The Prince is wise."

It makes Laurent chuckle fondly. "He is." Then, "Would you like to hear about the day I made Jord believe I'd been kidnapped by the pirates?"

Telling Isander his good memories makes him feel lighter.

*

He doesn't visit them that evening. It is better that he's not immediately seen running to his countrymen after the suspicious circumstances they were found in. Besides, Laurent thinks he needs to be with his own thoughts for a while, with Isander's easy company. He needs to calm down properly or he might speak embarrassing things in front of Jord.

* *

The next day they make the Veretians swear the new oath to Laurent in a semi-public setting. It's so that enough people at once witness it and spread the news to the rest of the camp without Damen and Nikandros having to make an official announcement to a whole gathering. It's announced that the Veretians are to keep their horses and from now on will be staying in the tent set up for them the previous evening.

There are a few Clan members who approach Damen or Nikandros with their concerns and they're heard out, but assured that no harm will come to the Clan from them staying with them.

The tension in the air remains but Damen reminds Laurent it is a matter of time for it to disappear.

After that the Clan moves on, Laurent leaves Damen's side and finds Jord, Orlant and Lazar among the riders. When the Akielons watching them see him, they begin to respectfully keep a larger distance between their horses. At last, Laurent gets to speak with them.

He gets to hear more of the escort mission and how they came to be part of it. They never got back to Arles after the wedding, which Laurent already guessed. It was too far for them to go back and again to Akielos in time to run into them here.

Laurent learns that Lazar is, in fact, a mercenary and was simply in the wrong time and place, a disposable soldier like the others who were not lucky enough to survive until the Clan found them.

Jord looks about as worried as Laurent is about the situation but when Laurent tells them he's glad to see them, his face brightens.

"Yes, it may have been luck after all," Jord says.

"I was concerned for you," Laurent says. "Not without reason."

"As we were for you," Jord replies.

"With less reason," Orlant adds. "It appears you did, after all, charm the barbarian."

Jord sends him a warning look at the used word.

"You didn't have enough time yet to judge whether I charmed him or not," Laurent says, though he avoids Orlant's gaze.

"I've seen enough." The other man says confidently.

Meanwhile, keeping out of what he considers private conversation, Lazar eyes the warrior who's been part of their guard since yesterday. Yes, it may have been luck that brought them here after all.


	7. Makedon

Two days pass, during which the Clan moves to where it's expected to set up beside Makedon's camp.

During those days Laurent spends a considerable amount of time with his three men, doing his best to tell them all there is to know about the life in the camp. He wants no mistakes made to annoy the Akielons and he throws himself into the teaching with nervous energy.

Compared to the newcomers, he's had more time for this and has been treated kindly as the new spouse of the Prince. On top of that, he's had Isander at his side at all times to ask questions and receive explanations from.

Jord treats this seriously for Laurent's sake, Orlant complains about it being too much in too short a time and Lazar begins asking strange questions which sound like he's more interested in relationship advice than actual Akielon customs.

Laurent also didn't miss the way he watches Pallas move.

It's not exactly filling Laurent with confidence about this working out but… so far nothing tragic has happened and maybe they can keep it that way for longer.

During one of the quiet moments, Laurent sits beside Jord at a fire. Laurent has sent Isander away to the other slaves after he brought some food for Jord and him.

"Orlant is right, isn't he?" Jord says at one point. Laurent looks at him, confused.

"You look at Damianos the same way he'd looked at you at the wedding." Jord elaborates. "You call him Damen."

"How does that make Orlant right?" Laurent deflects, flustered by the question. "It means he's charmed me, not I him."

"Where you're concerned, I think it is the same. It could only happen if there is something… mutual."

Laurent touches the fork on the bench beside him, playing with it. "Maybe I'm just young and stupid after all. Easily impressed."

Jord shakes his head in denial and exasperation at the same time.

"Is he good to you?"

Laurent nods. He avoids looking at Jord.

"Did he ever… did he touch you when you didn't want it?"

Laurent stares into the fire. "He stopped when I asked." He admits.

Jord is silent for a while, his eyes on Laurent.

"Did he insult your home or your people?" He asks eventually. "Did he make you feel less for not being Akielon?"

"No."

"Did he let others do it?"

"No. Never when he was present."

"Does he care for your opinion?"

"I think so. Not that my opinion is worth much while I still don't know enough."

"I don't think you're wrong for falling for him. I think that's the best that could have happened when you're married."

Laurent looks up at Jord when he's silent again, even though it sounded like he wasn't done. Jord is fiddling with his empty cup.

"I believe in marriage for love, even if it is rarely seen at court. If you can have it _after_ being wed, it's good too."

"You sounded different before," Laurent notes. _Before_ the wedding.

"Of course. I didn't think it was appropriate to express such sentiments when you didn't know what you were facing in your future. It'd be cruel to speak of love when neither of us knew if it was even a possibility." Jord answers seriously.

"Hmm. Well, it still may be all for nothing if Nikandros is right about general Makedon."

"Why? He is only a Clan leader, not the Oracle nor a king."

"But he's powerful and respected. A friend of the late king. I would hate to be the cause to break the ties between his and Damen's Clans. If someone wanted to attack us and we wouldn't have the support..."

"Would you prefer to leave than to cause that?"

Laurent shrugs helplessly. No, he doesn't want to leave, he wants everything to stay as it is. He wants the consequences of everything not to be as grave as he fears.

* *

As for the rest of the Clan, the general attention and conversation topics very quickly shift from the Veretians to the Clan meeting. Makedon hadn't been a guest at the wedding so it is expected that a kind of a secondary celebration will happen. It'd been a strange wedding altogether, the guests being of two different nationalities instead of two or more friendly Clans. Many people are now excited for "proper" Akielon celebrations, which Laurent isn't sure yet what they are. He remembers how loud and joyous the whole affair had been and that was not the Veretian way.

At least it's heartening to see them look forward to this, apparently not sharing Nikandros's and Laurent's worry that Makedon will not be happy for Damen at all.

* *

At last, the day comes. It is clear to see: a great number of people, horses, cattle pulling the carts appears in the distance, changing the green of the steppes into a collection of colours. It's still in the morning but the sun is already high and no clouds mar the sky. The air is clear, allowing them to see across large distances.

A group of riders separate from the main bulk of the caravan, making it quicker to their camp.

Laurent waits beside Damen, pushing back the nerves. It's foolish to be so anxious like he expects the strangers to see right through him at first glance and deem him unworthy. He's as dressed up as he was for Torveld's visit. He's wearing all Akielon pieces of clothing and the earrings which Damen likes seeing on him.

Damen's hand touches his lower back and rests there, creating a point of warmth and comfort for Laurent.

Damen is wearing a white tunic with a dark brown cape over right shoulder. Embossed leather shin- and wristguards along with a belt make him look more formal.

There are four warriors of high rank and the general himself in front of them. He appears to be possibly ten years older than Damen, which still puts him in his prime. He wears a beard that makes him look older and serious. Like a king.

Laurent chooses to remain Damen's shadow, speaking when it's required by manners and not drawing too much attention to himself.

It isn't easy not to have others' eyes drawn to his hair and his eyes when he stands out so much. They knew who Damen married but they haven't seen him until today. Of the four men accompanying Makedon, all have curiosity in their eyes and two seem impressed. The other two seem distrustful. All in all, no surprises.

Getting off the horse, which is an animal almost as impressive as Damen's, Makedon walks straight to him to put his hands on Damen's shoulders, giving him a firm pat on the right arm.

To Laurent's eyes, the older man appears genuinely fond of Damen, glad to see him after a long separation. They exchange words of greetings and then the polite questions about health and the state of their respective Clans. Laurent stands to the side, quietly waiting.

When Damen turns to him, the warm brown eyes locking on his, Laurent steps forward and takes Damen's offered hand.

"My husband, Laurent of Vere."

"I'm honoured," Laurent says, "to meet you so soon."

"You are? Has he been telling you stories about me?" Makedon glances at Damen.

"Of course," Damen begins but Laurent interrupts him.

"He didn't have to. I know history."

"Oh. Which _side_ of history?"

"I've been lucky enough to be told it by more than books and more than one person."

Makedon nods. "Good. Though I don't think the person was him." He claps Damen on the shoulder. "This boy carries too much fondness of epic stories instead of reality."

"I'm not so young anymore to be called that." Damen protests.

"Yes, yes. Married, even. We've yet to see if your choice proves your maturity." He sends the not very subtle jab at both Damen and Laurent. "Well. At least you still have Nikandros with you. That must be keeping you mostly on the right path."

Although he's not happy with the indirect criticism, Laurent has no trouble letting it wash over him without sticking. He's had enough practice for this in corridors of the Arles castle. Now he wishes he could meet Damen's eyes where Makedon wouldn't see. It amuses him to imagine them communicating without words, commiserating over being mildly insulted.

It distracts Laurent from more impending problems.

* *

It does get worse. After the welcome, they move to the tent with the maps and the chairs for meetings. Damen, Laurent, Nikandros, Makedon and several high-ranking warriors from both Clans are all there, with several slaves to serve them.

Since they weren't going to hide anything, eventually the conversation about the Wild Tribes leads to the killed Veretians and then to the still living Veretians.

As expected, Makedon's first thought is that they should have been sent away, regardless of their chances in the heart of the steppes. Or that they should have been killed like the others and the issue forgotten.

The same arguments they've gone over in the conversation between Damen, Nikandros and Laurent don't work when Makedon and his people are concerned. To him, it is clear the only right answer is to get rid of the Veretians and pay no mind to what the Regent wants or thinks. To Makedon, the possibility of future retaliation from the Regent is no problem at all. After all, he's more than ready and prepared to deal with it by force.

Just as Laurent feared, the criticism doesn't focus on _him_. It moves to Damen, who's supposed to be the _leader_.

Laurent is pushed to the role of the scheming Veretian or a clueless Veretian who will only bring bad luck to Damen. He stops trying to defend himself and his men in the conversation, staying quiet to not make it worse and feeling his own spirit weakening inside. Damen and Nikandros keep trying, meeting no understanding.

At one point Laurent notices Nikandros gazing intently into his cup of water as if he's seeing answers in it.

When he speaks next, he surprises everyone.

"Prince Laurent should be given a chance to prove himself. Wanting to protect his people from a pointless death is _not_ a fault of his character," Nikandros says.

"How do you imagine he can prove anything in an honest way?" Makedon replies, eyebrow rising.

"He should be given the Heart."

There are instantly murmurs in the background, Damen's eyes widen and even Makedon appears not to have expected this answer at all.

"He should consume it with us as witnesses and when he succeeds, we'll accept him just as we would behind the Lion Gates in Ios."

At first, the natural reaction is to protest. It's too big, too important. But Laurent soon enough understands that Nikandros isn't throwing him off the cliff by suggesting this. He's giving him a way to permanently rid himself of the insecurity in his position at Damen's side. If he can do this even before reaching Ios, so soon in the marriage, it'll _truly_ mean he's worthy. His heart beats faster, the new opportunity ahead of him.

Laurent doesn't consider failure an option.

His eyes find Damen. He's smiling, the smile growing into a grin when his eyes meet Laurent's.

"We'll do as you say. Excellent idea, thank you." Damen tells Nikandros.

"Are you not going to wait for Laurent's opinion?"

Damen waves his hand. "Of course he'll do it."

"I'm not going to say no to this, if only because I am curious to see it," Makedon says. "However, I don't think this is where it should be done."

"There are no temples nearby." Damen agrees.

"All of us would have preferred the temple," Nikandros says. "But we do have the wayshrine of the Sun half a day's ride away. I believe it's appropriate for the purpose."

"Fine." Makedon agrees. "I'm willing to see your little Veretian fulfil his duty as your husband. If he does, I will try to forget that he's bringing more of his kind to our lands."

Laurent does his best to ignore the final jab at him and Damen does the same. This is not the time to resume the argument.

Next step is to acquire a lion's heart and a few warriors are chosen for the task. They're the ones expected to do best at the hunt and be quick about it. When they're preparing to set out and Lazar notices that Pallas is going, he appears beside the warrior, offering to go with him.

Pallas raises his eyebrows. "Can't have a Veretian hunt Akielon lion, not for the ceremony."

"My presence would taint it?"

Pallas inclines his head.

"Well, I wouldn't want to harm prince Laurent's interests this way. Though it's a shame."

* *

Laurent sits in their tent, his fingers twisting in the folds of his new chiton nervously. He's barely paying attention to the new garment and how it feels on his body- he's too focused on imagining the ceremony. It sounds simple enough, a simple action he's supposed to perform… but he's too aware of the weight of it and of the weight of the gazes which will be on him the whole time.

It helps him to think that he shouldn't be focusing on Makedon. The man isn't the king of Akielons, he's just one of the important men. To Laurent, his husband is the one who counts the most. He's the one Laurent is doing this for. For himself, yes, but he's doing it for their marriage as well. If he can't push himself through eating the Heart, what else would he fail at in the future?

Damen is out with the others, probably overseeing the preparations and the camp. Laurent isn't sure if he'll see him _before_ or if it isn't allowed. If not, he'll deal with it.

Isander and Lykaios are with Laurent, though there isn't much for them to do as far as preparations go. He's supposed to look simple, no elaborate hairpins or decorated fabrics. Just an almost white chiton with thin golden lines at the edges and a golden pin holding it together on the shoulder and on the side. He also wears sandals.

When the time comes, it's Nikandros who comes to fetch him and Laurent is reminded of the day of the wedding. Back then he was brought to see Damen and the Regent to sign the papers.

Now, when he arrives at the Sun shrine he sees a crowd. In front of him, on the opposite side of the circular floor, stand his husband and the general. To the right- Makedon's people, to the left- Damen's people. Pillars hold up a circular roof, the edges of it decorated with depictions of birds and stylized sun discs. The floor is stone with mosaics running from the center of it like sun rays.

Damen's eyes are on Laurent, intent, encouraging.

At this point, neither the Prince nor the general lead the events; the elder who'd led the handfasting approaches Laurent to tell him to step towards the middle of the circular floor of the shrine. Then he steps aside to pick up a platter on which lies the raw heart.

Laurent's stomach does not like the sight of it. At least it's very fresh and he expects it to smell only of blood.

The elder is speaking, and some of the words he uses are from the old Akielon, which Laurent doesn't know yet. Still, he understands what is important. The ceremony is for the worthy, or rather to show those worthy of being part of the proud Akielon society.

Even though Laurent loves history, he stops paying attention while the Elder recounts some sort of legend, a founding story for the ceremony. Laurent's nerves won't let him focus on the talk for longer periods of time. Until this is done, he won't be able to focus on what doesn't feel relevant.

At last, he is asked if he wants to proceed. He wonders what exactly would happen if he backed out at his point. Nothing good, probably. Not even just for him, but for Damen's reputation.

There's no point in thinking of that and filling his head with even more dark thoughts. After all, he's not backing out. He says so - properly, in Akielon - to the Elder and the man comes closer, lifting the platter so that Laurent can take its contents into his own hands.

It is wet. It's slick and firm but yielding when his fingers dig into it to not lose hold on it. He looks at the... _organ,_ resolving not to thing but to _do._

There is no more talk from the others. From now on, it's all up to Laurent.

He doesn't look up from the heart from the moment he takes it. Ignoring the audience, he only thinks of getting through this. Taking a breath first, he bites.

It is much like he expected- no taste but that of raw meat, the liquid blood making it even worse to touch. The shape of the heart and the size of it make it uncomfortable to bite into and soon enough he's aware of the blood smudged on his skin.

He'd eaten beef tartar in Vere and then he'd tasted the Akielon version of it, made of horse meat. He didn't love it but it wasn't bad at all with spices put in it. This is completely different and now he knows even better why it's a _challenge_.

He doesn't rush.

Getting through one-third of the heart isn't very hard. Laurent takes a pause, as he's allowed to. He breathes slowly, closing his eyes. He opens them again because it only made his senses focus on the taste more. His mind reminds him what he's eating while his heart urges him on.

The audience is quiet. That is, there is the murmur of private comments, a word here and there, shifting of the clothes and feet on the shrine's stone floor. Other than that, it's meant to be a quiet ceremony, respectful of the one who needs to complete it. This is no wrestling match, to require cheering.

Laurent needs another pause. Having to taste the same thing, over and over, with not even water to wash it down, it's beginning to overwhelm his senses. Uncertainty stabs through him. Can he do this?

His eyes find Damen's. Damen's gaze is fixed on Laurent as if he hasn't looked away from him for a second. He probably hasn't. Now Laurent doesn't look away either.

_This is what I want_ , he thinks.

He only needs to finish. He needs to push himself until the whole bloody thing's gone and he's free. Damen's dark eyes are on him, always on him. Intent, speaking to Laurent when no words can be said.

He is beautiful like this, dressed for the occasion almost as richly as he had been for the wedding. Keeping his eyes on Damen, Laurent feels like he can go on. Somehow.

No, it isn't easier to do, but it's easier to go on towards his goal.

He was closer to the end than he'd thought- when there's nothing in his fingers but blood, Laurent stares at them surprised. Or not surprised, but not yet sure he's done it, he succeeded.

There's nothing from the crowd yet, not a word to let him know this is it.

They're probably waiting on the elder's word, waiting to see if maybe he's too weak after all and his stomach won't hold what he's eaten. To be honest he's not sure of that himself. He may have swallowed it all but the taste lingers, his lips stained with blood and his nose full of the smell.

And then… there is clapping and it's coming from his husband, who's looking at Laurent with a wide smile and pride in his eyes.

Damen strides to him, drawing him into a hug, mindless of the state of Laurent's face and hands.

*

Lazar talks to Laurent when they happen to be all together, the four Veretians.

"They wanted you to succeed, your people." He says. "I watched them during the ceremony."

Orlant snorts. "He means he watched the one…" he searches for the name, " _Pallas,_ across the shrine."

"That, too." Lazar agrees calmly. "And it was obvious on his face, _and_ the _others_ beside him that they wanted to cheer you on." There is only honesty in his eyes.

Laurent ducks his head. It pleases him to know this and he pushes away the ugly thoughts that would lead to him chastising himself in his mind for craving friendly gestures.

*

He sees Isander next. He is as quietly pleased as Laurent is and the prince can't help but smile.

"Come, help me become presentable again."

He's left alone, the others aware he needs to properly clean up. They also give him some time to himself before the day continues.

Laurent decides to keep wearing a chiton. Not the same, a richer one. It'd been made some time ago by the seamstresses with him in mind. They'd used wide strips of royal blue from the supply of Veretian fabrics. Now he'll wear it for the first time. Isander works on his hair, this time putting much more effort into it and weaving the delicate silver chains into it.

While he waits for Isander to be done, Laurent holds a cup of warm herbal essence that was given to him to drink after the ceremony. The thing is so bitter with the herbs that it does serve its purpose- almost making him forget the taste of the raw heart. His stomach isn't very impressed with either the food or drink and Laurent hopes it won't betray him after all.

When someone comes to the tent, it's Damen. He peers into the tent first to see if he can interrupt.

"Are you ready to come out to join us?"

"A little more, Exalted," Isander says from behind Laurent when Laurent tilts his head towards him questioningly.

"In that case…" Damen says while moving further inside the tent to sit down in front of Laurent. "You look beautiful."

"I've been told I look a little too green." Laurent replies, raising his cup in a mock toast.

"And how do you feel?"

"Accomplished."

"If you want to rest-"

"No. That's unnecessary. I wouldn't want to ruin the good impression I've just made by hiding away."

"Makedon wants to speak with you."

"Does he? Didn't he just accept my presence and decide to ignore me?"

"No. He'll ignore your friends and pretend they don't exist. But you, he won't ignore."

"Then we'll make an appearance together."

They share a smile.

When they exit the tent, Damen takes his hand and moves in for a kiss. Laurent has seen it in his eyes that he wanted to do it in there but refrained from interrupting Isander by making Laurent move.

It's slow but long and it leaves Laurent wishing for more.

Damen runs his hands down his shoulders and arms. "Shall we go, then?"

Laurent nods.

They go to where the most people are gathered, talking among each other and holding cups of wine.

Damen leads him to where the other Clan leader is, talking with Nikandros. Laurent assumes, knowing Nikandros, that they were talking about some practical matters, which Damen wouldn't care for right now.

"Well," Makedon's voice is strong and without the hint of hostility from before, "the young Veretian prince, capable of proving himself."

He comes closer, a smile on his face for a change. Laurent's not quite sure yet how he feels seeing it.

"Someone bring him a drink. None of that soft wine, this one needs griva to wash down the meal he just had." To Laurent, he says, "We'll celebrate the marriage properly, tomorrow. You'll appreciate the food more when you're not full." He laughs.

Damen looks like he wants to do something about the way his husband is monopolised by the general but he lets Makedon have his moment. It'll be good for him to learn more about Laurent, anyway.

Damen goes to find the Veretians. He finds Jord and Orlant talking together but the third one isn't there. Before Damen can decide if he even wants to ask about him, Orlant gives him the answer.

"Lazar has gone with your man, the warrior."

"Pallas." Jord supplies the name.

"Where to?"

Orlant smirks, while Jord looks like he's not really planning to answer at all.

"I've heard something of a promise to show him how to hunt a lion. A private lesson I think."

Damen isn't sure what to answer to that. Yes, he'd noticed the Veretian giving too long looks to not just Pallas, but _mostly_ Pallas… who is a grown man, if young, and it's not Damen's business to follow them.

Who knows, maybe they did really go hunting.

Before the promised feast the following day, the evening is best spent in smaller circles, creating an opportunity for the members of both Clans to gather according to their professions or rank and talk. They won't be able to do so once the drinking starts during the feast.

After Damen makes a circle around their half of the camp and sees everything's in order, he comes back to find Makedon and Laurent seated at a table, Makedon gesticulating widely in the middle of some tale. Laurent's leaning on the table on his elbow, his eyes on the other man.

There are cups in front of the both of them and Isander's standing behind Laurent, a jug held in his hands. One of Makedon's slaves brings a wide platter of cut up cheeses and fruit to set it on the table.

Laurent is no longer pale, his cheeks taking on a flush that's not exactly his natural colouring either. His eyes move from Makedon to Damen when he notices him coming and his whole face lights up. Damen's heart skips a beat.

Makedon turns to follow Laurent's gaze when he sees him distracted.

"Damianos! Come, join us. Where have you walked off to?"

"Only checking the camp."

Makedon waves away that explanation. "As if you need to do it yourself. Sit." To the nearest slave, he says, "One more cup for Damianos, swiftly."

It's brought indeed swiftly and while Damen takes the first sip, Makedon and Laurent join him in who knows which they're having. There is a brief moment of silence caused by Damen's appearance and the forgotten topic but it's over soon enough when Makedon begins recounting the recent wins against the Wild Tribes and less recent win against another Clan which had been trying to take a piece of what Makedon considers his territory.

At the end, Laurent is thinking hard about something and Damen notices.

"What is it?"

"Where is your territory?"

"There isn't really one I consider permanent. As for where we stay most often, it's around here in the heart of Akielos. Another place is back in the north-east, closer to Vere. That's where my father's Clan used to stay the most and Kastor wanted to move from there so I was free to stay."

"I do miss your father, what a great man he was," Makedon says. "You're young yet, free to do a great many things as well, even with the blond at your side."

"Not 'even'. _Especially_ with Laurent."

"Ah, _love_." Makedon waves his hand. "I've known that too."

This makes Laurent's thoughts skip from the way Damen just spoke his name to realising there is no woman here who appears to be Makedon's partner. Wondering if she may be dead, Laurent decides not to ask.

Makedon continues. "Love is best enjoyed young and then moved aside. Myself and Charis work best when I'm near the borders and she in Aegina. Theomedes and Egeria knew that too. I should perhaps make the trip, see her and pay my respects at the temple." He talks as if thinking out loud.

"I'm sure she'd like to see you, too," Damen says.

"A very fine woman, your mother. I thought it strange Theomedes could fall for another the way he did for Hypermenestra… I suppose he could have been feeling like living a second youth at that time."

Damen doesn't comment on that and Laurent, with his thoughts already swimming strangely due to the drinks, has a hard time reading him.

Of course, his thoughts also lead him to the image of Damen leaving Laurent in a city, perhaps Ios, and moving on without him. Damen leaving Laurent and finding someone else, someone Akielon, someone who could be a _wife_ or at least a _proper_ mistress…

"Pour another one for him." Makedon's voice drowns out his imaginary future. Laurent looks up.

"You're looking much too glum," Makedon informs him. "You should be celebrating! Celebrate your achievement and that you managed to catch him." He claps Damen on the back.

Isander, who was trying to refill his master's cup at a _reasonable_ pace, has no choice but to comply. He also moves on to the Prince, since Lykaios isn't with them and Isander doesn't want other slaves stepping in if he's right there to serve.

By the time the night is done Makedon is telling anyone who will listen that Laurent is "a fine young man, whose Veretian body hides an Akielon spirit".

Laurent's too far gone on griva by then to have any complex thoughts, such as disagreeing with that proclamation. He's very much a Veretian in heart and mind. Still, in the morning he'll be thinking of this, agreeing that there must be something to it after all, since he'd completed the ritual and since he's becoming used to the life in the steppes and in the camp more and more every day.

But that'll come in the morning.

For now, Damen has to support his swaying husband if he wants them to spend the night in their tent rather than in the open. Laurent seems content to do just that, becoming dead weight in Damen's hold at times and at other times being somewhat helpful by putting one foot in front of the other.

Even when unwilling to move, he's at least holding onto Damen, one of his hands fisted in Damen's tunic and the other pressed to his chest for balance that he won't keep anyway.

Damen's beginning to suspect that hand on his chest is there for other reasons and he smirks but doesn't point I tout. He'll maybe tease Laurent about this in the morning.

Isander is dutifully following behind them, his face showing worry for his master's state. Damen sends him to bring them a fresh full jug of water and then sends him away for the night.

Damen makes Laurent drink before he lets him lie down and bury himself in the comfort of their bed.


	8. The day of the Wedding

The morning starts late and drags on while Laurent recovers from griva. Damen, who had joined them later and drank considerably less, is considerate of his poor husband, postponing the teasing.

He tells Laurent of what's supposed to be happening this day, which is the promised feast in the afternoon. This time, per tradition, Makedon's Clan hosts them and it's Makedon's people who work to prepare everything.

Isander brings Laurent new herbs, this time for his aching head. Laurent finds that fermented milk particularly agrees with his body so he has two servings of it. He also has fruit pieces which Isander prepares for him every day.

"Do you wish to wear a chiton today, Exalted?"

"Yes, I think it'll be best to while we're staying with another Clan."

"You looked beautiful yesterday, Exalted."

"Well, I didn't prepare myself. It was your work."

Isander ducks his head, shyly pleased.

*

In the evening, Laurent and Damen take seats of honour beside Makedon. Tables full of food appear attractive to Laurent thanks to the rest that he had for most of the day and the herbs brought for him by Isander.

The celebration is so completely different from the wedding, it makes Laurent's head spin. When Damen holds his hand over his on the table while the conversation is going around them, it makes him happy. He turns his hand over, palm up so that their fingers can lace together.

When he looks along the length of the nearest tables, he finds his Veretians eating peacefully. Pallas sits with them, as do Aktis and Lydon, and some other warriors.

There's music and room to dance, and when Damen notices Laurent observing the slave dancers and the free people dancing, he asks if Laurent wishes to join them.

"I would only embarrass myself. Auguste did all the dancing that was needed to be done at court. Probably because it was the only acceptable way to be near the young ladies in public."

Damen's eyes twinkle with humour. "You've saved me from embarrassment too. I never learned to be decent at dancing either."

"Oh? What is it that makes you popular, then? Aside from... your..." He gestures widely at the whole of Damen.

"His reputation is for other skills than dancing." Nikandros joins in unasked.

Damen glowers at him, with little effect. Laurent acts shy, looking down. "Maybe you'll show me, some time."

That earns him a sound from Nikandros, half-huffing, half-chuckle, while Damen appears startled by his words. Laurent wishes the sun wasn't setting at this moment and that Damen's skin wasn't so easily concealing a blush.

The evening goes smoothly, Laurent soaks in what he'd missed out on during his wedding. _This is good_ , he thinks. _I don't mind being here_. He thinks, _I'll learn how to want all of this_. For now, he wants what's the easiest for him to have- his husband, and Nikandros's approval, and his friends safe. He wants Damen's reputation to be as best it can be while Laurent is his husband.

 _This is mine_ , he reminds himself while he takes Damen's hand sometime later to get his attention. He asks for a kiss and receives it, sweet and slow.

He's trying not to get drunk tonight, with Isander's help.

When the time comes to retire for the night, he takes his husband's hand again and he's the one to lead the way to their tent.

He has many things in mind but what he needs to do first is this. He kneels and sits on his heels in front of Damen, who sits down cross-legged when he notices that Laurent looks like he wants to speak with him.

When Laurent does speak, it's nothing that Damen could have guessed.

Words of the Akielon marriage promise flow easily from his lips, no mistake or missed word. Laurent's looking into his eyes all the while.

Damen stares, wide-eyed, unsure what to do with himself for once. Because this is what he wanted, what he wished for since the beginning since he'd told Laurent he'd wait for him to learn.

A strange tightness binds his throat, making him swallow first before he can reply to Laurent's words. He'd said his promise in full the first time but now he feels it'd be wrong not to say it back. Laurent's blue eyes are fixed on him, no longer with those sings of fear, of mistrust, of wariness. They've been tired since the issue of the Veretians fell on their heads but they got through it.

And maybe if they stay it'll be an issue again with another Clan but should that happen, Damen won't care much and Laurent shouldn't either. Makedon's support is what Damen always strived to have and they haven't lost it. If anything, his beautiful and brave husband has made it interesting for Makedon and maybe the general will be interested in meeting with them on the steppes more often.

Damen reaches out to cup Laurent's face. Laurent leans into it, his own hand covering Damen's.

"I love you." He says.

"And I love you, truly."

There is more on Laurent's mind, Damen sees that. So he waits.

Then Laurent's reaching out, his fingers touching the lion pin on Damen's chiton. He trails his fingertips over the shape of the lion's face. Then he removes it from the fabric, setting the pin aside.

Damen watches quietly as he moves lower, pulling at the golden-threaded belt and removing the second pin at the waist. The chiton slides off the shoulder, revealing to Laurent what he wanted to see.

The white fabric pools at Damen's waist, stopped from slipping lower by his sitting position. The man doesn't move, lets Laurent do as he pleases. He watches.

He watches as Laurent moves his hands back to himself, to his own pin and his own belt. When he shrugs his chiton off, he also moves to stand from his knees and it slides all the way to his feet.

Damen's eyes follow him, and when it's uncomfortable for him to keep looking up, he raises to stand as well. His hands, as if of their own accord, find their resting spot on Laurent's hips.

His touch burns. Laurent's senses hone in on Damen and his imagination runs ahead, sending a thrill through his body.

They're both free of their garments now, facing each other. Damen's waiting for Laurent to keep taking the first steps. He's holding back from asking if Laurent is sure, he doesn't want to break the spell.

By the look in Laurent's eyes, he is sure. They're dark in the lamp's light, focused on Damen and even if the light is poor, Damen isn't blind to the want he sees in them.

Meanwhile, Laurent takes in his husband, the details of his body different in the soft surroundings of their tent as opposed to the wrestling ring in the middle of the day. He likes how the shadows hug him, in places where Laurent will want to touch him too.

"I want you to take me, tonight. And the nights after."

"What if you do not like it the first time?"

"Are you going to make me not like it?" Laurent looks up at him from under his lashes.

"I'll do everything to please you."

"I know." He says softly. Then, "I've heard all about you, you know. From your lovers."

"Past lovers." Damen feels the need to say.

"Yes. They were singing praises of you, making me envious."

"I was yours the whole time."

Laurent nods. "I suppose I wasn't yours. But now I am."

"So I may do this?" Damen asks, pulling Laurent close, so close their bodies touch in more places than hands to the skin. They're both aware of each other's growing arousal. They both like it.

Laurent tilts his head up for a kiss.

When they lie down, at first Damen pulls him on top so he can straddle him. But Laurent protests the position, blush colouring his face, saying he wouldn't know what to do. Damen smiles, rolling them over, his fingers gripping Laurent's right thigh to guide it where he wants it.

He takes time preparing him, using a considerable amount of oil from small corked bottles that have been always in the tent since Laurent has come to live with him.

Between the kisses, soft and rough, all kinds of them, and the sensation of being touched on the inside, Laurent comes for the first time when they're nowhere near yet to the real act. Damen kisses the gasps from his lips, adding words of praise on top of kisses.

His whole body made pliant and even warmer by the release, Laurent lies back, enjoying the constant touch his lover is giving him.

It's as good as he'd imagined. Better, since he didn't really have a basis for his dreams, except touching himself only for the purpose of quick release.

This, _this_ is so much different.

When Damen enters him, it feels like he's not yet prepared. If he can ever be. For all that he'd imagined this, learning to let himself lust after his husband, for all the lewd stories he'd heard and for all the romantic poetry he'd heard Kallias practice with Erasmus, he still has to let Damen guide him through this.

A whimper escapes his lips when Damen's fully inside him, his fingers pressing bruises into his thigh where he grips him.

It seems he's as lost in the moment as Laurent is, as indicated by the stop in the trail of kisses.

Their breaths are coming faster even though they've not yet had a reason for it.

"Are you fine?" The air from Damen's words caresses Laurent's skin and he shivers.

"I'm fine," he says when his mind catches on that he needs to reply.

"Good," Damen says, his voice somehow even warmer and tougher than usual.

From then, it's overwhelming. Laurent becomes lost in the heat of the body on top of his, the beginning of pleasure from the thrusts inside him and in the initial stretch, the burn that makes it all real.

Since he already came once, it takes a while for the arousal to build up again, especially when it's pushed back by the uncomfortable sensation of being taken for the first time.

But it's good. It becomes good. Damen is considerate and moving slower than what he's probably used to. Laurent assumes so. He imagines he's not the most interesting of lovers, what with him focusing on _feeling_ rather than taking action himself. He bares his throat for Damen's lips to better reach where he wants to be kissed and feel the scrape of teeth on his sensitive skin.

The build-up returns, promising another orgasm. Damen must be able to sense it too because he wraps his hand around Laurent's neglected length to bring him close faster, before Damen finds his own release.

And then they're both there, both coming within several seconds of each other, both panting and slowly becoming aware of how hot they are. Laurent's feet are tangled in the bed linens, the furs pushed aside are touching his sides, adding to the heat.

Damen finds his lips again, drawing Laurent into another deep kiss, this one feeling like an ending to what they've done tonight.

While he doesn't want to remain sticky, Laurent's body is too thoroughly used to want to move. It's alright since his husband apparently has no trouble moving and grabbing something to clean them both with.

Laurent turns on his side and reaches his arm out for the water jug that's always in the same spot. He drinks straight from it.

Damen watches him, a pleased smile on his lips.

"Was it all to your liking?"

"Don't fish for compliments."

"I would never." Damen laughs. "I'd hate to hear tomorrow how you've complained to others but not said anything to me first."

"You are fishing for compliments. And you know I'm not going to speak of this."

"You're free to if you wished."

"Well, I don't. And how would that look, me bragging or you doing the same weeks after our marriage?"

"How do you know I haven't been bragging already?"

"I know."

"So then, is there going to be another night? Like you've said before we started?"

"Of course, I need to compare if you're consistent in your performance."

"I'll sleep easy, then."

"I think I will too," Laurent says, settling down in their bed as is most comfortable for him. He's still feeling the effects of their lovemaking clearly. He pulls a fur over his cooling body.

Damen settles down as usual and it doesn't take both of them to be asleep.

* *

When Isander comes in to help him dress after Damen leaves the tent the following morning, Laurent immediately notices the way the slave's eyes skip from Laurent's head to his body, particularly his throat. To Laurent's confusion, the younger man blushes and lowers his gaze. And then Laurent's realizes why.

He scrambles to search for the mirror in his belongings. He uses it very rarely, relying on the slaves to make sure there's nothing out of place in his hair and clothes...

"Oh, gods." He whispers. He isn't sure if he wants to laugh or hide in mortification. His skin even with a tan shows _everything_. Red marks left by rough kisses, some shadows on his arms that look like finger-bruises from being held too tightly.

He pointedly does not look down, doesn't push away the tangles of the bedding he's sitting in to see what marks Damen's hand has left on his thigh.

If he was supposed to look like this after their first night... Then doesn't that mean everyone knows Damen hadn't touched him then? No, not necessarily. He'd been wearing his Veretian shirts then, covering his throat. But he's not wearing those anymore and if he comes out wearing what he's been wearing for the past two days, it'll all be on display. It's a curse, he thinks dramatically. Maybe that's one of the reasons the Prince had wanted him at the beginning, too. He's too pale, his skin to prone to bruising.

Wearing marks from childish accidents or bruises from training was one thing, this is completely different.

Laurent's cheeks heat up the longer he thinks about this and remembers Isander is still _there_.

"I don't imagine there is anything that would help me cover this up? Like a cream."

"We have salves for injuries which hasten the healing of bruises," Isander answers. "I will bring one right away."

"Please do."

Left alone, Laurent goes searching through his chests of garments, looking for a thing most suitable to wear. He doesn't have much luck. Akielon shirts have short collars and tunics have no collars at all. He can't suddenly start wearing his originally Veretian shirts for no reason, especially when they're still staying with Makedon's Clan. Although, maybe it wouldn't be that outrageous if he wanted to show his heritage when they've already accepted him. But no, he doesn't wish to die of a heat stroke.

While he moves around the tent, another thing becomes clear to him. He is sore. He is quite sore in places that have seen the most use last night.

The more he walks around, the more clear it is that he might not want to ride a horse any time soon. Thankfully they're not moving anywhere today and likely not tomorrow.

But now he remembers from the early days, the first week, the way the warriors closest to Damianos had commented on his riding skills and it'd felt to him like a double meaning was eluding him with his inadequate language. He'd thought they were mocking Vere, like they were joking about him, what with Akielons being accepted as the best riders in the whole region.

Now he understands. He'd been riding with no issues and they'd been _impressed_.

Laurent hides his face in his hands and groans.

When Isander comes back, he's carrying a little container and a scarf. Or a shawl. Laurent eyes it, trying to remember how he'd seen Akielon women use those shawls. They'd usually cover their hair or shoulders from too much sun or they'd use the most expensive ones for show.

"If I wear this, I'll draw attention to myself."

"It will cover your skin, Exalted. The others might suspect why but they won't be able to see it."

"What do you think I should do about this?"

Isander's eyes widen. "Exalted… is this not a mark of your happiness? Are you ashamed of lying with our Prince?"

"I'm not- I'm _not_ ashamed of being with my husband. But I don't want to tell everyone around what we've done."

"Then wear the shawl. No one will _know_ what's under it even if they can guess."

Laurent sighs. "It might make Makedon happier to see I'm not… cold. Well. Let's do it, help me prepare."

It'd be easier if he were a woman, fasten the shawl to the braids at the back of his head so it can flow down and be loosely wrapped around his neck. Since he can't do that, Isander has to figure out a way to make it look nice and not too strange.

"Maybe I should ask when Erasmus is meant to finish his training…" Laurent wonders. "You'd have more help. Lykaios can't stay with me every time only to help with my hair and I can't always go to the harem."

Isander can't really answer him since he wouldn't know the details. Only slave keepers do.

Laurent glances at his slave, thoughtful. "Would it… bother you if another slave were to serve us?"

Isander's hands still. "Are you asking if I would be jealous, Exalted?"

"Would you be?"

"No." He says and resumes his work.

"Is it because Erasmus has his beloved?" Laurent presses.

Isander nods, shyly.

"I think it's curious," Laurent says after a while. "That it's easier to find love in this Clan than wherever I've been my whole life… If I managed it, I believe you're going to find it, too."

* * *

* *

*


End file.
